


what if you fall? oh, but my darling, what if i fly?

by Doggoos



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale and Crowley Met Before The Fall (Good Omens), Aziraphale loves Crowley, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Crowley loves Aziraphale, Crowley's life is not fun, Flower Language, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, I ignore everything Crowley said about his fall, I know NOTHING about angels or heaven or any of it, I swear I'll make it up to him, Idiots in Love, M/M, Memory Loss, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Questionable Angel Lore, Stars, tags will be updated as I go, they have been in love for more than 6000 years, they knew each other before the fall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-08-11 16:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20156761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doggoos/pseuds/Doggoos
Summary: Raphael and Aziraphale were happy together. They had each other, and that was all that mattered, really. Unfortunately, Gabriel seemed to disagree.Raphael Falls.Aziraphale forgets.But they work it out in the end. They always do.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so this is my first work on ao3, and my first published work in almost 4 years, please be gentle.
> 
> this was inspired by [this animatic](https://youtu.be/FusXM053DVU) which is absolutely beautiful, please check it out!! I blinked and suddenly there was a 10k draft sat in front of me, I'm still not sure how that happened.
> 
> I'm posting this now so I don't back out later, I hope you enjoy!! oh and new chapters should be pretty swift to follow (I hope)

When Raphael first saw an angel staring into the sky, he thought nothing of it. Of course, why should he? He was an archangel, as Gabriel never let him forget, and it was _improper_ to associate with the lower classes.

Secretly, Raphael thought this was a load of bollocks. He had expressed this opinion to Michael once, and had been severely reprimanded for it. Since then, he had decided to keep his questions and doubts to himself. It was a lot safer that way.

The other angel was nothing special at first glance; a principality, if he had to guess, with white hair sat in a mop of curls. Wearing a simple white robe, he was practically indistinguishable from the other angels. Handsome, definitely, but that alone was nothing special. Every angel was handsome in Heaven.

It was only when Raphael caught him constantly staring upwards, that he began to wonder just what he was looking at. The stars? The planets? Something entirely different? Or maybe he just had a habit of zoning out while he looked up. In any case, he'd never know if he didn't ask.

For a while, Raphael simply observed. The principality worked, just like every other angel Up Here. He always seemed very invested in what he was doing, like he was giving it his all. But when there was a lull in his job, and when he thought no one was watching, his gaze turned to the sky. He usually stayed like that until someone jogged him back to reality, like he'd been completely lost in thought. Raphael was more than curious as to what he was thinking about. No one else seemed interested in the sky and the stars above. Raphael was, obviously; he had helped create them, but he'd never seen someone else care about them too.

Eventually, he plucked up the courage to talk to the other angel. He wasn't nervous, per se, more... apprehensive. He knew Gabriel would get on his back if he found out that he'd been associating with a principality, but he couldn't bring himself to care too much. What was the worst that could come of it? A short conversation, that was all it would be. He could always come up with a believable excuse if he had to. Not that he was going to lie, obviously, it was more of... bending the truth, so everyone stayed uninjured.

And so, that was how Raphael found himself picking his way through a meadow, towards the strange principality. He avoided the flowers underfoot where he could; he'd been watching when the angel made these ones, and he didn't want to ruin the hard work. They were alone, as far as he could tell, stood beneath the vast night sky, on a patch of springy grass and soft mud. He reached the angel's side, and neither of them spoke, only staring up at the pinpricks of light in the inky horizon. The archangel wasn't even sure he'd noticed his presence, but didn't want to disturb him. So he waited.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" the other angel asked, after a few minutes, still not looking at Raphael. "Absolutely breathtaking..." His voice wasn't much more than a breath, so quiet Raphael wasn't sure he was supposed to have heard.

The archangel hummed in agreement anyway, slightly taken aback by the complete sincerity in the angel's voice. He'd never actually had someone compliment his work before, and felt a swirl of something dangerously close to pride float around this chest. "Yeah, it is..." He could end the conversation there. He'd gotten what he came for: confirmation that the angel was interested in the stars. He had no feasible reason to stay any longer. Gabriel would heart about this, if he wasn't careful. His heart, unfortunately, did not seem to care for reason. It started heating faster, and Raphael found his gaze lingering too long on the angel's lips. They looked soft.

He gave himself a mental shake. Just _what_ was coming over him? "You see that one, there?" he asked, taking care that his voice stayed neutral. He was pointing to a particularly bright star in the middle of the sky.

The angel's sight followed Raphael's finger. "The one brighter than any other?"

Raphael saw the star reflected in the angel's eyes. He nodded, slower than usual. "I helped make that one."

"Did you!?" The other angel gaped at him for a second, then looked back out to the star, then remembered to close his mouth. "It truly is astonishing."

Raphael looked away, clearing his throat, as the not-pride feeling returned. His heart thrummed in his chest when the angel looked at him like that. Like he was important, or special in some way. It was the same way he looked at the stars. "Technically, it's two separate stars, but they orbit each other so closely that they appear as one from Earth." He wasn't sure why he was telling the angel this. Maybe it was because he'd never met someone who actually cared about his work with the stars. It was exciting to talk about his job, especially with someone who might've understood how meaningful the stars were. Maybe it was because he had the sudden urge to tell this angel his entire life story, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. That was exciting, too. Almost electrifying.

"That would make you an archangel, wouldn't it? Creating stars as your job?"

The redhead nodded. "Archangel Raphael. You?"

"Aziraphale. Principality," he replied curtly.

"Nice to meet you, Aziraphale," he said, testing the name on his tongue. "Thank you for noticing the stars; most don't."

Aziraphale's gaze turned upwards again. "I don't see how they can miss them..." he said, softly.

Raphael looked at Aziraphale, properly. He was shorter than the archangel -- not by much -- and he was slightly plumper. At first glance, his hair appeared wiry, but upon closer inspection was actually soft as a feather. His eyes were a fascinating mix of blue and grey and green, and they seemed to sparkle as if the stars themselves were trapped in them. A small smile played on his lips, and Raphael found that he could not look away. Not that he wanted to, anyway.

"What if I named a star after you?" the archangel asked suddenly, his lips moving before his brain could catch up.

Aziraphale's attention snapped to him, eyes wide in disbelief. "You can do that?"

Damn. Raphael definitely couldn't back out now, not with Aziraphale looking at him like that. "Not... Not officially," he admitted. "That's supposed to be something for the humans to do. But we would always know. Our little secret."

Aziraphale looked conflicted. "I... I-- I couldn't possibly..."

Raphael shook his head, long, red waves of hair bouncing around his cheeks. He shot the angel his best smile. "It would be my pleasure, Aziraphale, really."

The principality considered, looking between Raphael and the stars. He saw something in the redhead's eyes -- sincerity, perhaps. Hope. -- and he softened under the gaze. "I... Oh, alright. I'd be honoured," he said, finally.

The archangel smiled softly, humming in thought. "What about that one?" he asked, pointing at a barely visible star, just south east of the stars he'd shown earlier. Aziraphale's eyes followed his finger. "It's in the same system as the first two I showed you, but I think it'll be too small and dim for the humans to see. It's the closest star to the Earth," he explained. "The closest thing they'll have to the rest of the universe, and yet they'll be completely oblivious to its presence." If he was asked, Raphael wouldn't be able to tell you why he'd thought this star a good fit for Aziraphale. It was something he felt, rather than knew for sure.

Aziraphale pondered this. He smiled softly, and looked at the star. "It's sort of... poetic... when you think about it, isn't it?"

A silence stretched, waiting for Aziraphale to expand on that. The principality seemed lost in thought again, and didn't say anything. Raphael wondered if the angel zoned out like this a lot. It was impossibly endearing, especially when his face seemed to relax a little and his eyes glistened. He clapped his hands together, which seemed to startle the other angel out of his trance. 

"Well then," he smiled. "By the power vested in me, I name this star... Aziraphale!" He felt stupid, being dramatic like this, but he wanted to make the principality laugh. He sincerely hoped this angel had a sense of humour, or he would just end up looking like a twat. Most angels wouldn't know a joke if it slapped them across the face, but Raphael knew Aziraphale was different. Hoped Aziraphale was different. He threw in a teasing smirk, to ensure it would be taken as a joke.

Aziraphale smiled back at the archangel. A proper, genuine smile, the likes of which Raphael hadn't seen in far too long. It wasn't a laugh, but his stomach did a strange little flip at the sight of it all the same. Raphael ignored it, in favour of looking out at the stars again. And if he shuffled a little closer to Aziraphale, so their hands brushed together, then the stars were his only witness. Well, and Aziraphale, but he didn't pull away. In fact, he seemed to scoot ever so slightly closer.

"I'd like to visit, one day," Aziraphale said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

Raphael took a moment to register what he'd said. "Where? Aziraphale the Star?"

Aziraphale nodded. "It looks so lonely up there, with no other stars around."

The archangel smiled at the angel's concern. "I'm not so sure... maybe it like the peace? Besides, it's got the other two stars in its system, doesn't it?"

"I suppose, but I'd like to visit nonetheless. I'd love to see the universe from another perspective. I've been on Heaven and Earth, but there's so many more planets out there." He looked up, dreamily.

"Yeah? Maybe I could take you one day. A holiday, if you will," Raphael suggested, glancing at the principality out of the corner of his eye.

Aziraphale looked at him, and smiled softly. "I think I'd like that." He leaned his head so it lay on Raphael's shoulder, barely touching, yet it felt like he was being burned. In a very pleasant way. "I'd like that very much..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed!!!! next chapter soon to come


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two angels fall in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy this chapter!! it's just more of Raphael and Aziraphale being dumb and in love. the amount of times I wrote Crowley instead of Raphael is bloody ridiculous, so if you find any mistakes or errors, feel free to comment about them!! please enjoy!

Time passed (or at least it would have, if the concept of time had been invented yet), and Raphael and Aziraphale grew closer. Whenever possible, they spent their time together. In Heaven or on Earth, it didn't matter where they were, as long as the other was there too.

Aziraphale loved watching Raphael create stars and planets, loved watching all the attention and care that the archangel poured into each and every one of his creations. Raphael was always ready with some witty reply or teasing remark, and Aziraphale loved hearing his snarky one liners. It was such a breath of fresh air from the rest of Heaven, with all the stuffy angels that didn't seem to believe in fun. When it was just the two of them, Aziraphale felt he could do or say anything, and he wouldn't be judged, or shunned, or rejected. Not one other angel in all of Heaven made him feel the same way. He felt as if he had a best friend -- a proper, genuine best friend -- despite Gabriel's opinion on the matter. He was constantly trying to keep them apart, always trying to have them assigned to posts as far away from each other as possible.

_"An archangel should never befriend something so lowly as a_ principality_,"_ he had stated once, spitting the final word like it was venomous. But Aziraphale had looked into Raphael's hazel, shining eyes, and known this wasn't true. Whatever the relationship between them was, Aziraphale never wanted to stop seeing Raphael. And he knew Raphael felt the same. It was like a sort of unspoken bond between them. Neither were sure when it had appeared, but they'd started being able to read each other perfectly, in every situation. It was almost like a bridge, linking their two souls. It wasn't exactly telepathy, but that was one of the few words that accurately described it. _Soulmates_ was another one.

Raphael loved watching Aziraphale work, too. His creations might not have the scale that Raphael's did, but don't for a second think that that made them any less important.

Aziraphale worked mostly on Earth. He created bugs and insects, that seemed insignificant on the surface, but were actually anything but. The bumblebee, for example, had been one of Aziraphale's. Without them, and all the other pollinators, nothing in the Garden would look as beautiful as it did. They were what kept the whole place running, yet no one else seemed to appreciate them for what they were. Raphael had explained this to several angels on several different occasions, and he would continue to do so if he heard anyone disrespect the animals.

Aziraphale also worked on the plants in the Garden. He loved creating flowers. He had complete control over how they looked, and he relished in the complete freedom he had. They could be any shape, size, scent, or colour, and they were still flowers. Aziraphale adored that. He had invited Raphael to try his hand at creating plants, once. He really did love watching Raphael work.

First, the archangel had created a plant which seemed to have leaves made up of leaves. The leaves themselves were small -- tiny, almost -- and were a beautiful lime colour. They grew along thin stems which all joined in the middle of the plant. In a way, it looked like an explosion of small leaves, frozen in time. Raphael called it a _Fern_. A _Maidenhair Fern_, to be exact. [1] It wasn't a flower, but Aziraphale loved it regardless. The fern worked perfectly in the garden, fleshing out the foliage. He planted it wherever he found an empty spot. Raphael had said that he should create other ferns, if he so wanted. "With different shapes leaves," he had hinted with a sly wink. Aziraphale intended to do just that. Soon the garden would be full of ferns, of all different shapes and sizes.

Next, Raphael had made a tiny flower. The petals were blue, blending into purple around the centre. Aziraphale had worried that such a tiny flower might not survive in the wild, and had covered Raphael's hands with his. He concentrated on the plant floating between them, and suddenly the single flower was replaced by a dozen of the same kind, all growing from the same stem. The archangel had named this flower _Forget-Me-Not_, holding eye contact with Aziraphale as he said so. [2]

Lastly, he had created a lovely, baby pink flower with ruffled petals. Raphael named this creation a _Carnation_. [3] It was beautiful, and smelled heavenly. Aziraphale made a mental note to create carnations of other colours later, and to create beautiful flower beds with them.

Raphael loved the Garden. He loved seeing so many different species, both flora and fauna, living together in equilibrium. He loved the vibrant colours, greens and pinks and yellows and blues, all complimenting each other wonderfully. The gentle flow of a nearby stream, the soft buzzing of bees going about their work, the rustle of wind blowing through trees. It was truly peaceful. The only thing that could ever make it better was the presence of a certain principality.

Aziraphale loved the garden too. It was breathtaking, yes, but mostly he loved watching the awe on Raphael's face when he noticed something new, or something special. Aziraphale would happily create millions of Gardens if it meant he could see that look as much as possible. It was beautifully endearing; almost childlike in its innocence. Aziraphale felt a flutter in his chest whenever he caught Raphael looking at _him_ like that. He couldn't name the emotion, but whatever it was, it felt right.

And so, it was only natural that the two angels would spend their free time lounging in the Garden. They had discovered all the best spots, and alternated between them. Sitting under a fruit tree that had yet to bear fruit, laying in the crisp meadows of daisies and buttercups, or strolling aimlessly through the dense forests. And even though they liked to choose beautiful spots for their meetings, the truth was that the location didn't matter, as long as they were together. Their conversations seemed to consist of nothing and yet everything, at the same time. They switched topics at a rate that no other angel could keep up with, yet they understood each other perfectly.

Other angels in Heaven had begun to take notice of their relationship. It wasn't unusual for friendships to occur between angels; they were beings of love, after all, but none had ever seen angels as close as these two. Not everyone was as distrustful or wary of them as Gabriel, but he and the other archangels were a very loud minority: always ready with a snippy remark or a disgusted glare whenever the pair walked by. Neither Raphael nor Aziraphale could understand why their relationship was so wrong; couldn't understand why something that felt so _right_ could be wrong. So they kept seeing each other, unwilling to let a few petty words ruin the best thing they'd ever had.

Once, when the sun had set and the twinkling stars were watching over them, Aziraphale had voiced his opinion about the archangels. Well, _stated an undeniable fact about the archangels_ was a more accurate description, but he trusted Raphael to uncover his hidden words. He was slightly terrified about what the consequences would be if anyone overheard them.

"I don't think Gabriel likes us," he said, staring up at the sky and silently naming all the ones that Raphael had created.

The archangel snorted. "An understatement if I've ever heard one, but I know what you mean." He thought for a moment, carefully watching Aziraphale as if he was the only thing in the world. "None of the other archangels really support me hanging out with you, if I'm honest. Bunch of prejudiced twats, if you ask me. I don't know why they can't recognise how much you're worth... I thought all angels were supposed to be equal, and yet they're acting as if they're above everyone else."

Aziraphale looked around them, checking for anyone that could be listening in or spying. "Careful how loud you speak, dear, I wouldn't want them hearing you..."

Raphael brushed it off, but smiled at the nickname nonetheless. "Eh, they're well aware of my opinions towards them. I just wanna know why they think they can act like that. The Almighty is all-loving, right? We're all equal in Her eyes?" At Aziraphale's slightly hesitant answering nod, he continued, "Well then I don't get it. You haven't done anything to annoy them, have you?"

"I've never spoken to any of them outside of my duties," Aziraphale answered honestly. "And even then, I don't see how I could have upset any of them..."

Raphael hummed in thought. "The way I see it," he said, glancing upwards. "If God didn't like us, then She would've done something. And, seeing as She hasn't said anything yet, then I'm assuming we're okay. Forget what Gabriel and the others think."

Aziraphale didn't say anything, and simply held Raphael's hand in his, laying his head on the archangel's shoulder.

The redhead sighed contentedly, and leaned into the touch. He pressed his lips into Aziraphale's hair, and breathed in his scent. "Besides," he said softly. "I won't let any of them get to you. Not Gabriel, not Michael, none of them."

Aziraphale let out a small chuckle at that. Not unkind, but in disbelief, and not a small amount of happiness. He couldn't believe how lucky he had been to even befriend Raphael, let alone have their relationship evolve into what it had become. Neither would trade it for the world.

"I love you," Aziraphale said, breaking the quiet that had descended around them. It was the first time either of them has said it aloud, but they'd expressed it through actions more times than they could count. A holding of hands here, a hug there, and the occasional peck on the cheek whenever the situation called for it. But saying it like this, with no room for misinterpretation, brought a new sort of intimacy. "And not that angelic, all-encompassing love. This feels different. Stronger."

Aziraphale felt more than saw Raphael's lips curl up into a smile. "Yeah?" the archangel asked, and the fondness in his voice was almost unbearable. "I love you too, angel. Never doubt that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 A Maidenhair Fern, in flower language, means _a secret bond of love._ [return to text]
> 
> 2 A Forget-Me-Not means _true love_, or _memories._ [return to text]
> 
> 3 A pink carnation, in flower language, means _I'll never forget you_. [return to text]


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three archangels visit our angelic boyfriends. Good things don't happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this update wasn't supposed to take 2 weeks but it somehow did. i wrote most of this while listening to the minecraft ost which did not help to set the tone but it is an aboslute bop so,,,
> 
> anyway the angst starts this chapter, hope you enjoy!

A few days later, Raphael and Aziraphale sat together on the edge of Heaven. From here, they could see almost half of the Earth. Most of it was finished by now, with only a few blank spots yet to be filled. There were belts of luscious green forests and sandy deserts, and the two angels could not wait to explore every inch of it together. They were not alone in their excitement about Earth's creation -- it was the work of God, after all, and a massive project at that -- however most other angels agreed on the idea that Earth was below them, in more than the literal way. No one said anything, but there was an unspoken rule that Earth should be for humans, and Heaven should be for angels. Mingling wasn't forbidden, though it was discouraged. 

For his part, Raphael found he could not care less what the other angels thought. He would fight every angel in Heaven and God Herself if it would make his angel happy. Earning a few disapproving stares was nothing. 

Both Aziraphale and Raphael were both sat cross legged on a pristine white cloud, the space between them was glowing with energy. Raphael's hands were gently piloting Aziraphale's, while he whispered soft instructions. The energy between them slowly started to change shape, growing more and more compact, until it was about the size of a golf ball. It shone brighter than anything around them, but, Raphael thought secretly, nothing could outshine Aziraphale's grin. The light continued to shrink until Raphael guided Aziraphale's hands away, stopping the process. 

"And there you have it," Raphael said, looking at the ball of light that sat between them. "That's the basics of how to make a star. Obviously, for the real thing, you need a lot more space, but it's the closest we can get in here," he explained, glancing up to see Aziraphale's eyes shining. It seemed no matter how much time they spent together, that sight would never fail to make Raphael's unnecessary heart beat faster. He smiled at the thought. Life would be so much more boring without this feeling. 

Aziraphale was practically gleaming with pride, not that he would've admitted it to anyone. "That was fun! You really get to do that for a job?" 

Raphael grinned at the principality. "Yeah, maybe I'll show you one day. You've shown me the Garden, it'd only be fair. Besides, I still owe you that holiday." 

In truth, Raphael was apprehensive about taking Aziraphale to the stars. Not because the angel might cause trouble, or because he wasn't allowed, but because of how the other archangels might react. There were no rules stating that Raphael couldn't take Aziraphale to see his work up close, but then again, there were no rules against an archangel/principality relationship, and yet Gabriel and his goons seemed to have a problem with that. But he was determined not to ruin his angel's good mood, so he gave him the sweetest smile he could muster. Really, it was impossible not to smile when he looked at Aziraphale. 

"Hey, angel, let me show you something," Raphael said, to break himself out of his thoughts. He passed his hands over the star, and suddenly it was smaller than it was before, about the size of a blueberry, and was trapped in a golden cage. Its light shone through the bars, slightly warming anything it touched. The archangel snapped his fingers, and a small, golden chain looped through the top of the cage, making a sort of amulet. He beckoned Aziraphale forward, and fastened it behind his neck. "So you can always think of me, even when we are apart," he explained, as he looked away bashfully. 

Aziraphale looked like he was about to cry. "Oh, Raphael, it's beautiful," he cooed. He slid the archangel's fingers between his, and Raphael looked at him again. "Like I have my own personal star, right above my heart." He looked down at the cage with such adoration that Raphael almost had to look away. "Oh, let me return the favour," he said, after slipping the star beneath his robes, so it lay on his chest. 

Before Raphael could reply, Aziraphale had miracled a red rose between his fingers. "Close your eyes for me," he instructed. 

Raphael did as he was told, a small smile playing on his lips. He felt energy rush towards Aziraphale, and could picture the principality's tongue sticking out as it did when he concentrated. 

A moment passed, then Aziraphale smiled and said, "Alright, you can open them now." 

Sat in the blond's hands, in place of the rose, there was a ring. At first glance, it appeared simple and plain, but as Raphael drew closer, he saw it was anything but. The ring was a deep red colour, exactly like one of the petals from the rose. There were little veins of burgundy spreading over it, and Raphael suspected that Aziraphale had crafted this from the rose itself. On the inside, there was a thin engraving; a winding and curling stalk, complete with thorns. The whole thing shone and glinted in the sunlight, like someone had dropped glitter into its very essence. 

Raphael stared at the ring, while Aziraphale held his right hand and slipped it onto his third finger. "Angel..." He trailed off, awestruck. "I love it," he said eventually, after flapping his mouth uselessly. 

Aziraphale beamed. The look seemed to travel straight to Raphael's heart, which almost overflowed with love. "So you can always think of me, even when we are apart," the principality parroted, with no less sincerity than when Raphael had said it. 

Just as Raphael was about to reply, he saw someone approaching. Three someones, in fact. Gabriel, Michael, and Uriel, all with their noses turned up and their backs ramrod straight. Raphael's stomach dropped, and he set his face into a careful neutral. Nothing good ever came of these three archangels approaching, especially if your name happened to be Raphael or Aziraphale. His wings moved to encircle Aziraphale, almost subconsciously; he planned to make good on his promise to protect him. 

"What do you want?" Raphael practically snarled, as soon as he knew Gabriel could hear him. "We're both finished with our duties for the day, we're not doing anything wrong by hanging out." He and Aziraphale stood up together, and the archangel slid an arm around his waist. Aziraphale leaned into it; they slotted together like puzzle pieces in the right place. 

"It's not us who want you, it's the Lord. She wants to see _both_ of you," Gabriel said, a sickening smile on his face, like he knew what was about to happen and he was going to _enjoy_ it. "We just came to deliver the message." 

Raphael's stomach sank even more, and he looked over at Aziraphale. Aziraphale looked back, worried. "What does the Almighty want with us?" he asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer. 

This time, it was Michael who spoke. "We have no idea," she said innocently, batting her eyelashes in a way that made Raphael feel sick. 

"She only said that it was dreadfully important," Uriel chimed in. 

Raphael never liked the way they finished each other's sentences, it always gave him the impression that they were in their own gang, which everyone else was too stupid to join. He squeezed Aziraphale tighter, then said, "I'll go. Aziraphale will stay." 

Aziraphale made a surprised noise, but Raphael shushed him. The blond looked like he was going to argue, as he often did when Raphael was being reckless. The archangel was determined not to hear it, less he lose his nerve. 

Raphael was painfully aware of the fact that the Lord never asked to see anyone, unless you had done something very wrong. She was content to let her angels go about their own tasks, as long as they respected Her rules. She didn't ask for much, really. But he'd heard the rumours; all of them had. About the angels that the Lord asked to see, and who were never heard from again. The Lord did not like when Her angels disobeyed Her. Not since the Revolution. She didn't like to take chances, and She didn't want to lose more of Her children than She already had. 

Evidently, Aziraphale knew what was coming, too. "I won't let you go alone, Raphael. We will face this -- whatever it is -- together, as we always have." 

Raphael smiled, to reassure his angel more than himself. "I'm sorry, angel, I can't put you through this." He blinked, forcefully, and looked up, in the vague direction of God. He wouldn't let his angel see him cry, not now. He had to be strong, for Azirphale more than anything else. 

"You don't get to decide what I can and cannot do!" Aziraphale shouted, his anger giving way into sorrow in the form of a voice crack. "I am going by my own choice. You cannot change my mind on this, Raphael. At least this way, we'll be together. I couldn't bear being apart from you..." 

The three other archangels watched on, faces perfectly neutral. If asked, they would deny that they felt anything for the two angels in front of them. This was only partially true. They truly believed that Raphael and Aziraphale were to get what they deserved, and this brought a slim wave of satisfaction. The Lord had agreed with them, after all. Beyond that, though, they felt nothing. How could an angel feel anything for the _Fallen?_

For a moment, Raphael forced himself to forget about Gabriel and the others watching on. He focused solely on Aziraphale. They were getting nowhere fast, and the Lord was not known for Her patience. She would find them, soon. Allowing angels to go to Her was just a formality. Most did so, and received their punishment with dignity. A few ran and hid. It made no difference in the end. No one escaped their Fate. 

A plan hatched in Raphael's mind, one that made his stomach heavy with guilt, and he winced. This corporeal body could really get on his nerves sometimes. He swallowed, and stepped into his cool and collected façade. It felt wrong, at a time like this, but it was necessary. He had to do this, or it would be the end for them both. He couldn't put Aziraphale through what was to come; it would quite possibly destroy him. He was too nice. Stripping that away would leave him empty inside, and Raphael couldn't bear to see that happen. Even if he survived, he wouldn't be the same. He would sacrifice himself so his angel could continue to live a comfortable life in Heaven. Raphael quickly prayed that this wouldn't be the end of them, before realising God would likely no longer care. 

With that in mind, Raphael grabbed both sides of Aziraphale's face, bony hands snaking their way into blond curls. The principality opened his mouth to say something, but couldn't get the words out. He stared into Raphael's hazel eyes. The archangel leaned in, and Aziraphale eagerly met him halfway. 

The kiss was soft, sweet, and tender, like nothing either of them could have ever imagined. The feeling of hands tugging at hair was electrifying for both parties and for a moment, they could almost forget their current situation. Forget that this could well be the last time they saw each other. Both angels seemed eager to pour their current emotions into it; to make the other side understand how he was feeling. 

It was like their souls had been bound together, closer than ever before, if only for a moment, and left an imprint. Both of them knew that nothing could ever -- would ever -- feel as good as this. As right as this. 

In the end, it was Raphael who pulled back first. He did so with tears in his eyes, though he couldn't pin the emotion causing them. His mind was a mess of grief, hope, anxiety, and happiness. None of them came close to the adoration he had for the angel in front of him. "I love you, Aziraphale," he breathed, leaning their foreheads together. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry..." Distantly, the archangel wondered if any amount of apologising could ever make up for what he was about to do, but quickly banished the thought. Now was not the time to feel regret. There would be plenty of time for that later. 

Aziraphale, slightly dazed from the pure, unadulterated passion that Raphael had just poured into him, blinked once, and then Raphael was gone. Vanished without a trace. 

He sobered instantly. He knew where Raphael had disappeared to, but he didn't want to believe it. His heart was in his throat as he spun around, looking for the telltale sign of red hair, or his almost-golden eyes. He saw nothing. 

He tried to miracle himself to God. To Raphael's presence. Anywhere that would've brought him closer to the archangel. He didn't move an inch. Couldn't move an inch. He didn't know if something had happened to his powers, but it wasn't important, not at the moment. 

He readied his wings, jumped and flapped... and then landed exactly where he'd started. He tried again. Nothing. He couldn't fly. He had no way of reaching Raphael. He was alone. He'd left Raphael alone. 

"Raphael!" he screamed. He screamed to the clouds above him. He screamed to God. He screamed to Earth and to the rest of Heaven; to anyone that would listen. He didn't care what anyone else thought of him, not anymore. "Raphael, please! Please, don't leave me!" His throat felt like it was closing up, but he screamed anyway. There was no reply. There was nothing. 

Nothing but the three archangels that had delivered the news. The archangels that had always disapproved of his and Raphael's relationship. The archangels that had taken Raphael -- his one love -- away from him. They watched the scene unfold, making no move to help the distraught angel, or even try to calm him down. Their faces were all carefully neutral, the type that takes a conscious effort to maintain. They were _enjoying_ this. 

Aziraphale acted without thinking. He blinked, and suddenly he was right in front of Gabriel, swinging a fist and aiming for the face. He didn't know how it happened, but he was glad it had. 

Gabriel caught the punch with ease. He held the fist still, digging his nails into Aziraphale's knuckles. He grinned condescendingly, with a sick glint in his eye. If the principality could feel anything other than the ache in his own heart, and the lack of Raphael's presence, he would've winced. 

"You are going to regret that, _Principality_," Gabriel spat. He turned Aziraphale's fist so suddenly that it snapped, and the blond crumbled to his knees. "Just you wait..." 

And with that, Gabriel and the other archangels turned on their heels and stalked away, leaving Aziraphale on the floor, openly weeping. 

* * *

Three days later, and Aziraphale still had not moved. His wrist had healed, by its own accord, but he did not move it from where it lay on the floor at an odd angle. He sat on his knees, eyes staring into nothing. They were glazed over and glassy, but no longer crying. He had nothing left to cry with. Other angels had stopped trying to rouse him, as they had run out of ways to do so. Miracles hadn't worked, neither had talking, nor brute force. Nothing could make Aziraphale move from his spot, and so they had just come to accept him as part of the scenery. 

Aziraphale, for his part, felt completely empty. He barely even thought. His mind just replayed every memory he had of Raphael, intent on driving him insane. There was no use in even being angry anymore; he couldn't bring Raphael back. He could yell and scream at Gabriel until his throat was sore, yet nothing would come of it. He could request an audience with the Almighty, and calmly explain how She was wrong to do what She did, but that would never work. The Almighty never made mistakes. Never went back on any choices She made, either. 

And so, Aziraphale surmised, the only way he could see Raphael again would be to Fall. 

Aziraphale knew there were many problems with this plan, but none would stop him. He did not know what it took to Fall and yet, if Raphael had fallen, it could not be much. He did not know what happened after a Fall, but neither did anyone else. An angel might change beyond recognition once they Fell, or they might stay exactly the same. Aziraphale prayed desperately for the latter, but in the end it did not matter. After all, he still had to figure out how to Fall first. Everything else would follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's the angst i promied in the tags ;) next update should be a lot quicker (no promises) but i just wanna say thank you to everyone who's read, kudosed, bookmarked and commented, y'all are brilliant and thank you so so much dsakjldsajkfl


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets his punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna be honest, this wasn't supposed to come out until later, but then politics happened and i wanted to distract myself from it. so here! 
> 
> I'm not 100% happy with this one, so im posting it now so I don't lose my nerve later. I've never been particularly good with angst but I hope this is at least readable and understandable

One week after Raphael's _"disappearance"_, as the archangels were calling it, Aziraphale moved for the first time. It was slow and painful, which is only to be expected after being completely stationary for seven days, but it was a start. His knees creaked and his spine protested loudly as he stood. His soul still felt empty and lonely, and that was all Aziraphale needed to be sure Raphael wasn’t there. If the archangel was anywhere close, he would _know_. His wrist clicked back into place with a small twist and flex. He could still feel the ghost of Gabriel's nails pinching into his skin.

Aziraphale felt his blood boil at the thought of Gabriel. He knew, really, he should be angry at God, as it was Her who had asked to see them. It was Her who made Raphael Fall. But he couldn't shake the feeling that Gabriel had played a part in this, too. Like he had told the Lord what they were doing. He got the impression that he had lied, and yet it was just baseless conjecture; a gut feeling. Aziraphale didn't know angels _could_ have a gut feeling, yet here he was.

Someone behind Aziraphale cleared their throat. It was Gabriel and his gang, he knew it; he could feel the smugness radiating off of them in waves. Aziraphale looked over his shoulder and snarled, a warning to leave and never return. Of course, they paid him no mind.

"It has been brought to my attention," Gabriel started, and Aziraphale refused to look at him. "That you, Principality Aziraphale, have been avoiding your angelic duties." He spoke in a too-happy voice, like he was excited about what he was saying.

Aziraphale felt sick at the thought. He'd sounded exactly the same when he'd arrived a week ago. He said nothing.

"Normally, this would not be an issue. After all, you recent lost a... _friend_, did you not?" Gabriel was trying to bait him into reacting, but Aziraphale would not give him the pleasure. "However, it has been a week, and you have not returned to your post. This is unacceptable, Aziraphale, do you understand?"

Again, Gabriel went unanswered. The only indication that Aziraphale had even heard the archangel was how his lips pressed into a thin line.

The archangel sighed, theatrically. "Principality Aziraphale, I give you one last chance to repent for your sins. If you apologise now, the Lord and everyone else shall forgive you. You can go back to working in the Garden, as you were before."

Aziraphale sneered. _Not without Raphael_, he thought, though he wasn't sure his vocal cords were up to the task of expressing it aloud. From Gabriel's face, he seemed to have understood nonetheless.

"Don't say I didn't warn you!" he chirped, too brightly. Then, much darker, "Principality Aziraphale, for your disobedience, your lack of faith, and your sins, I sentence you..."

This was it, Aziraphale thought, he was going to Fall. The moment he had been hoping for. He could finally see Raphael again. They'd only been apart a week, and yet it felt like eternity. He wasn't sure what awaited him after this, but he knew, deep in his heart and soul, that if Raphael was there, they would get through it. Together. He closed his eyes, held his breath. And waited.

"To have your memory wiped."

Aziraphale's eyes snapped open. _What?_ That wasn't part of the plan! That wouldn't lead him to Raphael! He'd-- Oh, _God_, he'd forget about Raphael. Every single memory. Gone. Every time he had made the redhead laugh. Every time they had kissed, or touched, or hugged. The gifts they had given each other. Their love. All gone. Aziraphale let out a choked scream, unable to stop himself. It was hoarse and raspy, and sounded like pure despair. "Y-you can't!" he croaked. "I'll do whatever you want, please, just don't do _that_." He was practically begging now, but he didn't care. His hatred of Gabriel would mean nothing if he couldn't even remember Raphael, or why the hatred existed in the first place.

Gabriel grinned at the reaction. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid it is too late, Principality.” His tone made it sound like it wasn’t very _unfortunate_ at all. “The Lord Herself has signed off on this." He smiled, and Aziraphale wanted to punch him. Scream at him. Anything to get that stupid, patronising smirk off his face.

Instead of doing any of that, though, he closed his eyes, and let out a steadying breath. There was no way to escape his punishment, not when Gabriel was the one delivering it. _Especially_ not if God had agreed to it.

There was no point in running, so he might as well go out with style, right? He could almost see Raphael agreeing with that mentality in his mind. He put a hand to his chest, on top of his heart, and clutched the golden cage with the star inside. He thought about Raphael. Focused on the part of his soul that he had imprinted on.

"I love you, too, Raphael..." He hadn't said it before, a week ago, but he was damned if he wasn't going to say it now. It was his last chance. He thought about Raphael. About his smile and his wavy red hair and how his eyes twinkled in the light of the stars that he had helped create, and --

And then Gabriel snapped his fingers.

* * *

Aziraphale stood ramrod straight, his arms fell to his side and his head swung upright. His wings folded into themselves, as if to hide. His eyes, previously glistening with tears, were dull and empty. His face was completely neutral, but peaceful.

Gabriel watched him carefully, looking for any hint that the memory wipe had not worked. He'd never had need to perform one before, but Aziraphale and Raphael just _had_ to be different, didn't they? He'd needed to deal with them before they inspired other angels to _fraternise_. The situation would quickly escalate out of hand unless he acted quickly, and so that was what he did.

Gabriel wouldn't say he had _lied_ to God, per se, just stretched the truth ever so slightly. Extrapolated. Shown Her what would happen if the two angels were allowed to continue seeing each other. Giving other angels _ideas_. They didn't want another Revolution on their hands, did they?

"You are Principality Aziraphale," Gabriel started, using his most authoritative voice. His violet eyes glinted; no angel had ever had the chance to rewrite another's memories before, and he was determined to do it well. "Your newly assigned job is to guard the Eastern Gate to the Garden of Eden. You will keep the humans in, and any infernal or otherwise meddling forces out. You were made to obey, Aziraphale, never forget that. If any of your superiors give you an order, you _will_ follow it." Gabriel looked to Michael and Uriel, checking he hadn't missed anything. At their nods, he clicked his fingers again.

Aziraphale blinked once, twice, and then seemed to register who was stood before him. He stood to attention almost immediately. "Archangels Gabriel, Michael, and Uriel," he greeted politely. "How wonderful to see you all."

Michael stepped forward. "What is your name and rank, angel?"

_It's not the same when you say it_, Aziraphale thought, though he couldn't for the life of him figure out why or what it meant. Not that he had a life, he supposed. In any case, he had been made to obey, and so he answered Archangel Michael's question.

"Aziraphale. Principality." He felt like he had introduced himself the same way at some point, and it had had a huge impact. It must done, or he wouldn't have felt his stomach flip at the thought. He felt like it was important, but the more he tried to pin the memory, the more it slipped away from him. In fact, he couldn't seem to remember anything clearly. There were ghosts of things, that always brought a strong emotion when he focused on them, but he could not name any more details than that.

"And your duties, Principality?" Uriel asked, oblivious or perhaps uncaring of Aziraphale's inner turmoil.

"To guard the Eastern Gate to the Garden of Eden, to ensure that the humans stay in, and any meddling forces stay out," he replied, almost without thinking. Saying that felt wrong somehow, like his job was supposed to be somewhere else. He had no clue where that would be, or what it would involve, though the word _Garden_ did seem rather familiar.

"Well then, Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate," Gabriel said, smiling almost manically. "Please, return to your post."

And with that, Aziraphale blinked, and then he was stood on a wall. Behind him lay a vast expanse of sandy nothingness, with few animals daring to prowl in the heat. In front of him was a luscious green space, full of tall, thick trees and bright flowers. He assumed this place was The Garden that he was supposed to guard.

Aziraphale looked at himself for the first time (that he could remember, at least). As far as he could tell, he was just like all the other angels. Of course, he didn't have much to compare himself to, but he certainly _felt_ like an angel.

But there was still the issue of his missing memories. Why couldn't he remember anything? What had happened before he woke up? The archangels must've known; they'd been there when he'd awakened. They hadn't seemed worried about him, so he had no reason to get worked up over it, right? His superiors had no reason to lie to him or cause him harm in any way. They only wanted the best for him. They were all angels, after all, and they were beings of love.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. That he was missing something. Someone? It felt like a yearning in his very being that he couldn't -- didn't want to -- ignore. It was like whoever it was had made an impact on his very soul, something deeper than just memories.

For the first time since he had awakened, Aziraphale became aware of an amulet of sorts around his neck. He pulled it out from under his robe, and held it in his palm. He got the feeling that he should protect this little golden cage with his life, though he had no idea why. The whole item seemed to absolutely radiate love, so much so that Aziraphale was nearly overwhelmed. He just wished he knew _why_.

For a minute, Aziraphale damned his own curiosity. It was obviously the Lord's plan for him to lose his memory, or it wouldn't have happened. And the archangels, his direct superiors, they hadn't been worried, so surely he was supposed to just accept this as a fact of his life. It would be blasphemy to question the Almighty.

And yet, he couldn't help but wonder. Had he had a life before? He must have, or he wouldn't have these previous memories. Had it been a good one? The amulet readily emitting love seemed to suggest that something from his past life had been good, yes. Had he had any friends, or someone special in his past life? Aziraphale really hoped he'd had at least one friend, maybe they'd be looking for him? How would he explain this whole thing to them, when he didn't even know what had happened in the first place?

At any rate, the amulet seemed like the best place to start. Not only did it emit love, it also felt loved. It had obviously been important to whoever he was before, and was probably a gift from someone. He just had to find out who.

But for now, he had a job to do.

Aziraphale looked down himself, and found a sword attached to a belt at his waist. It wasn't there when he had talked with the archangels, he was sure, and he carefully pulled it out of its holster. He gave it an experimental swing, ensuring not to hit himself, and the sword promptly burst into flames.

For a moment, Aziraphale was worried he'd somehow broken the weapon, which wouldn't be a good thing to do on his first day. But as the sword continued flaming, yet not actually burning, he concluded that it must be a feature; to act as a deterrent or perhaps injure during battle. Aziraphale wasn't sure what he would need something like this for a guarding job, especially not when there was a wall doing exactly the same job. He found he didn't exactly fancy the thought of harming or killing someone or something, anyway. He was an angel, wasn't he? Surely they were supposed to give life, not take it.

Aziraphale gave himself a mental shake. Yes, he was an angel, and that involved not questioning God or his higher ups. He had to have been given the sword for a reason, and that reason would make itself clear in time. He just had to have Faith.

With an exhale, he turned to the vast, empty desert. Sheathing the sword, he checked for any immediate danger to the Garden. There was nothing. So he waited.

* * *

Raphael, or Crawly, as he now went by, had jumped at the chance to cause trouble in the Garden. Anything to get out of the cesspit known as Hell that he'd been forced to inhabit. It was the antithesis of Heaven in every way, apart from the snotty people. The walls were grimy, as if from years without being washed, and the hallways were constantly full of demons pushing and shoving. Crawly didn't feel like he belonged here. Then again, he didn't feel like he belonged in Heaven exactly, either. The only thing worth anything in Heaven had been Aziraphale, and...

Crawly sighed deeply. There was no point on dwelling on that now. He twisted the ring on his third finger; the only thing he had left of his angel. It had helped a lot, especially during his first few days as a demon. Helped remind him of all the good that did exist, somewhere in the universe. That the pain of his Fall would not be constant, no matter how unbearable it may seem now. Aziraphale was fine, he had gotten God to promise that, and She did not break her vows.

Originally, God had wanted to split Raphael and Aziraphale up completely: so their jobs never coincided, and so they could never spend their free time together. When Raphael had asked why, She had replied that Gabriel had warned Her about the dangers of letting them be. When Raphael had tried to object, tell Her that Gabriel was lying, She quickly shushed him, unwilling to listen.

Raphael had easily decided that an eternity away from Aziraphale was not worth staying alive for, and had asked if there was another option. God replied that if Raphael Fell, then Aziraphale would be spared from all punishment. They would still be able to be friends, and do whatever they wished, but as an Angel and a Demon. She would no longer interfere. She had given him Her word on that. And so, that was how Raphael became Crawly.

The situation wasn't ideal, he'd admit that much. Crawly hadn't really thought this far ahead; he was mostly concerned with getting Aziraphale out of harm's way. With that accomplished though, he didn't really know what to do next. He couldn't just saunter up to Heaven, and ask to see his boyfriend. The closest he could get would be Earth. Besides, he knew how much Aziraphale loved the Garden. They both did. Maybe being assigned there wouldn't be such a bad plan after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops.
> 
> hope you enjoyed! next few chapters are mostly written, not sure when I'll release them but they're there. 
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are always welcome and always appreciated! see you next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angel and a demon meet. It's unclear if this is the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how did this chapter reach 4k words? im not sure.
> 
> also while i was editing this i added a bunch more stuff so if there's anything that feels out of place or whatever,, it's because im lazy and cba to read through it again. enjoy!

The first time he saw Aziraphale stood on the Garden wall in all his angelic beauty, Crawly had felt a pang of envy, followed by a not insignificant amount of relief. Aziraphale was fine; he was alive and well. God had kept Her promise.

And then came a wave of anxiety. What if Aziraphale didn't want to see him anymore? What if something he had realised that he could do so much better than Crawly? What if he just didn't want to associate with a _demon_?

Crawly pushed the thoughts out of his mind. He stared at Aziraphale. Everything would be alright. Everything _had_ to be alright. Crawly hadn't Fallen to just lose his angel anyway. Whatever problems they would face in the future, they would face them together. The demon couldn't bear to see Aziraphale's face looking that heartbroken ever again. He vowed to never let anyone or anything hurt him like that.

Before all that, though, he had to actually face him. Easier said than done.

He'd tempted Eve into eating the apple, and Adam had followed suit. They had directly disobeyed God, and they had suffered the consequences. Crawly couldn't help but sympathise; having been in a similar position recently. Not identical, but he knew how it felt to lose God's love in such a short span of time. To go from being content and having everything you could ever desire, to feeling cold and alone and deserted in split second. 

He slithered up a wall of Eden to ensure they'd left the Garden safely. If anyone Downstairs asked, it was pure coincidence that he’d climbed the same wall Aziraphale had been standing on for the last few days. Crawly had worried slightly that the angel never came down to greet him, though he chalked it up to being stuck at his post. So, the demon had come to him instead.

Crawly knew something was wrong as soon as he turned back into his human shape, and Aziraphale hadn't reacted further than a curious glance in his direction.

The demon's stomach dropped. Something had happened. Something had happened to Aziraphale and he hadn't been there to protect him, he'd broken his vow already.

He tried to reason with the doubt clawing at his gut. Maybe Aziraphale just couldn't recognise him. Maybe he had changed more than he'd thought during his Fall. He knew he still had his red hair, still laying in lazy waves around his shoulders, but maybe the eyes were off-putting. Crawly hated the eyes. They made him look more snake than human. Yes, that must be it. Aziraphale hadn't recognised him because of the eyes. It was a very drastic change from the lovely gold they'd been in Heaven. Now, they were an ugly, reptilian yellow, complete with black slits for pupils. 

Crawly made a show of playing with the ring on his finger. Not for the first time, he thanked everything that he hadn't lost it during his Fall, along with his Grace, Holiness, Mercy, and Innocence. But if Aziraphale noticed, he didn't say anything. He didn't even seem to care. Maybe someone Up There had forbidden him from interacting with demons? God had sworn She wouldn't interfere, but it could have easily been one of the archangels.

Crawly grasped for conversation topics. At least then he'd know if he was being ignored purposefully. "Well..." he managed, scanning for something to talk about. He saw Adam and Eve walking out into the endless sand. "That went down like a lead balloon."

The angel gave a weak chuckle, looked at the demon, and Crawly's heart leapt into overtime. Then the angel seemed to remember himself, and stopped, almost like he didn’t know what he was laughing at.

"Sorry, what was that?" he asked politely, looking back to Adam and Eve.

Crawly silently sucked in a breath. Could Aziraphale really not recognise him? "I said, 'well that went down like a lead balloon'," Crawly answered, not sure what else to do.

He searched the angel for any signs of recognition, a hint of the Aziraphale he'd known only recently. The one loved every one of God's creatures with his entire heart, who doubted his superiors and who watched the night sky with such rapt attention. Crawly came up empty.

It was like something inside Aziraphale had died – been murdered – leaving only a hollow shell of the previously bright and shining angel. There was no crinkle in the corner of his eyes when he smiled, nor did he seem to exude the love he once had. Yes, he looked almost exactly the same, but _he wasn't_. That was the best Crawly could describe it. He looked almost like he had when they had first met. Like he'd been wiped clean.

He'd done all this for Aziraphale, for _them_: the Fall, the Garden, and now something had happened to the angel and Crawly was lost. There was no one he could turn to anymore; other demons wouldn't agree to his friendship with an angel, he was sure of that, and no angels would associate with him, either. Talking to God was out of the question, he was a demon now, and She had no reason to answer him. Besides, She had promised not to meddle. 

He was angry, probably irrationally so, but he had no one to direct the anger towards. It wasn't Aziraphale's fault that something had happened, he knew his angel better than that. And, as stupid as it sounded coming from a demon, he trusted God. She did not go back on Her promises. So, who would have done this to his beloved angel?

The only candidate could be Gabriel, or one of the other archangels, but this was purely an assumption. He had no evidence, and there was nothing he could do, even if he had something to confirm his suspicions.

If Crawly was correct, then Gabriel, Michael, or Uriel had wiped Aziraphale's memory. He was still the same angel –- still Crawly's angel, that would likely never change -- but he had none of the memories from before the wipe. The demon let that sink in, focused on his breathing.

When Crawly had been in Heaven, it had been a punishment fit for only the most ruthless angels that didn't deserve to Fall for their actions, but perhaps needed to start over. Last time he'd checked, it had all been hypothetical; the angels had never really believed they'd need to use it, nor were they sure they _could_ use it. It was supposed to be a deterrent for anyone thinking of acting out. Most thought it was inhumane, an act of restricting their God-given free will, making it so they couldn't learn from their actions. Gabriel, or whoever was responsible, was obviously not one of these angels.

Crawly looked back over to Aziraphale, blinking hard. He tried to focus on what the angel was saying.

"Yes, _yes_. It did, rather." The angel looked like he was warring with himself. Crawly suspected he was the cause of his termoil. It helped, in some weird way, to know that they were both freaking out over their situation. Crawly had just learned to hide it better.

The demon almost smiled. He was still the same angel; with his flowery speech, and his blond, curly locks. Crawly could even recognise his wings, though they were practically indistinguishable from any other angels'. Again, he felt a small stab of envy at the sight of the pure white wings. It would take a while longer before Crawly was used to his own black ones, yet he found he quite liked them. The whole black aesthetic he had going on was really quite fashionable, he thought, but it was such a far cry from Heaven. Sometimes, his clothes reminded him of his Fall, and he swore he could still feel his wings burning and charring. Other times, he felt good in what he was wearing. It felt _right_ being a rebel, and looking like one too, like he was fighting for a good cause. 

With that, Crawly realised he should probably start acting a little more demonic, less Hell get suspicious. "Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me. First offence, and everything," he said, aiming for carelessness, even though the fiery blood pumping through his veins and the ache in his heart told a very different story. "I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway." This was an opinion that Crawly shared with the rest of Hell, at least.

"W-Well it must be bad," Aziraphale answered hesitantly, and cut himself off, probably expecting the demon to introduce himself.

Crawly smiled, it seemed the doubting angel he'd fallen in love with was still in there, _somewhere_. Just slightly... buried. "Crawly," he answered, and he felt the strange need to stick out his hand for a handshake, as if they were business associates, instead of (ex?) lovers. His new name sounded almost alien in his mouth, and he wondered if he could go about changing it at some point.

"Crawly.” Aziraphale looked conflicted, then seemed to dismiss whatever he was thinking. “Otherwise... you wouldn't have tempted them into it," he continued. He looked troubled, though he tried to hide it. Aziraphale was almost completely sure that he shouldn't be conversing with a demon at all, that God and the archangels would greatly disapprove of it if they ever found out. And yet, he still did it. It was inexplicable -- ineffable, really -- he just felt like he should be talking to this demon. That it was right to do so. He couldn't explain it any better than that, though he supposed he should fabricate an excuse, in case Heaven asked. 

"Oh, they just said, 'get up there and make some trouble'," Crawly answered easily. He was doing an excellent job at the whole smooth, self-confident demon thing, if he did say so himself. It felt almost natural, like he could finally succumb to all the sins that Heaven forbid him from enjoying. He was going to make full use of sloth and pride, he was sure. 

"Well obviously, you're a demon. It's what you do." 

Ah, so this was what it's like to be at the receiving end of a holier-than-thou attitude. Crawly supposed he'd have to get used to that. "Not very subtle of the Almighty though, is it? Fruit tree in the middle of a garden with a don't touch sign?"

Aziraphale was trying very hard to ignore what the demon was saying. He was making a little too much sense, and even though the angel knew he should be ignoring it, he couldn't help but listen. It was blasphemous; doubting the Almighty, and yet _it made sense_. He tried to focus on the storm clouds gathering over the sand dunes that Adam and Eve were currently climbing, but the demon continued talking.

"Why not put it on the top of a high mountain? Or on the moon?" Crawly had found that once he started talking like this, it was difficult to stop. All the questions he'd asked in Heaven and been punished for, he was asking now with no consequences. Maybe he was a worse angel than he'd thought he was. Maybe his Fall had actually been a blessing in disguise. ...A damning in disguise? But it was hardly disguised... Oh, whatever. "Makes you wonder what God's really planning," he said pointedly, to measure Aziraphale's reaction. The angel he'd last seen would have agreed, if only secretly, but Crawly could always tell.

"Best not to speculate," the angel answered quickly. "It's all part of the Great Plan." 

Crawly felt like the words _Great Plan_ should be accompanied by jazz hands and a lot of pizazz, to play towards God's flair for the dramatic. Not that either of those things had been invented yet. Crawly was almost completely sure now, though: the angel that he had known and loved in Heaven no longer existed. At least, not on the surface. Not at the moment. This Aziraphale had denied Crawly's suggestions immediately, without giving them a second thought. It was almost like he feared the consequences of disobeying, but Crawly couldn't blame him. Having all your memories cleaned directly from your brain must put the fear of God into you, or at least the fear of Gabriel. If Aziraphale even knew he'd had his memory wiped, that is. He could have no recollection of anything before, like he'd been completely factory reset.

_If_ Aziraphale had had his memory wiped at all, that was. There was no way to confirm or deny his speculations, not without asking the angel himself. And none of the following scenarios that Crawly imagined were particularly pretty. Most involved Aziraphale immediately losing what little faith he had placed in the demon, and never speaking to him again. That was the last thing he wanted.

Crawly sighed. He wanted to help Aziraphale, more than anything. But what could he do? The angel had shut him down as soon as he'd shown the smallest doubt in God, so what was he to say? _"Hey, Aziraphale, you don't know me, but I used to be an angel and we were in a relationship! I've missed you, so fucking much, do you want to kiss?"_ Crawly almost chuckled. While he'd love to see the angel's reaction to such a claim, he doubted it would bode well for their future relationship.

"It's _ineffable_," Aziraphale said, after a pause in the conversation.

Crawly looked at him, surprised. "The Great Plan's _Ineffable_?" He knew God could be tricky, but this was a new one. When had this come into play? Not while Crawly had been in Heaven, that's for sure.

"Exactly," Aziraphale replied, sounding happy to move the topic onto something a little more acceptable for an angel. "It is beyond understanding, and incapable of being put into words."

Crawly, however, was not listening anymore. He had become interested in something a lot more fun than God's Great Plan. If this angel was such a goodie two shoes, then how could he explain this? "Didn't you have a flaming sword?"

Aziraphale promptly shut his mouth and looked out to Adam and Eve helplessly. "Uh..." He didn't seem very eager to preach now, and Crawly smiled slyly.

"You _did_, it was flaming like anything. What happened to it? Lost it already, have you?"

"Gave it away..." Aziraphale mumbled, purposefully avoiding the demon's gaze.

"You _what_?" Crawly, for one, was shocked. He could've sworn this angel would do anything and everything for his Lord, and yet he gave away a gift from Her? To the humans, no less? Maybe the Aziraphale he'd known was closer than he thought. 

"I gave it away!" Aziraphale repeated, looking positively torn apart by his choice. "There are vicious animals, and it's going to be cold out there. And she's expecting already! And I said, 'here you go, flaming sword, don't thank me, and _don't_ let the sun go down on you here'," the angel continued, feeling the need to explain his actions to Crawly. "Oh, I do hope I didn't do the wrong thing..."

They both turned to watch Adam fight a lion that would’ve killed them both. Aziraphale felt a small burst of pride that overrode the guilt, if only momentarily. Both humans would be dead, if not for him. Surely, that counted for something.

"Oh, you're an _angel_, I don't think you can do the wrong thing." Aziraphale didn't have to know that Crawly wasn't being sarcastic in the slightest.

Judging by how the angel's face suddenly turned very soft and thankful, he hadn't heard the what was supposed to be sarcasm anyway. "Oh, _oh_, thank you. Oh, thank you. It's been bothering me."

Crawly nodded. "I've been worrying too. What if I did the right thing with the whole eat the apple business. Demon can get in a lot of trouble for doing the right thing." Conversation was still as easy witht the angel as it had been in Heaven, Crawly was pleased to note. A small part of his mind reminded him that Aziraphale did not know who he was anymore, and that the demon should probably stop telling him his worries as if they were best buddies. Crawly ignored it.

There was the sickening sound of a sword piercing flesh, and Aziraphale's face fell. If it was because of the death of a hungry lion, or because of what Crawly was saying, he couldn't be sure.

"Be funny if we both got it wrong, eh?" Crawly asked, smiling at the idea. "If I did the good thing and you did the bad one." If he was honest, he mostly wanted to hear Aziraphale laugh again. He'd missed the sound more than he was willing to admit.

Aziraphale chuckled, then seemed to realise the implications of what Crawly had suggested. He stopped almost immediately. "No! Wouldn't funny at all..."

Crawly shrugged, more with his face than his shoulders. Agree to disagree, he supposed. He was about to say something to that effect, but the clouds rumbled above them, and water started leaking from them. 

The angel and demon pair looked skywards and were promptly pelted with rain. Each droplet sizzled and hissed when they landed on Crawly, who assumed the water was very slightly holy, coming straight from Heaven and all. It didn't hurt, no more than a small patch of warmth where it landed, but he caught Aziraphale looking at him worriedly anyway. He smiled, to reassure the angel that he was fine. 

Aziraphale opened his wing and invited Crawly under it anyway. He imagined it wasn't comfortable for a demon to be rained on with holy water, despite what Crawly would have him believe. Besides, who was to say it might not get worse? 

Or at least, that was what he told himself.

Realistically, he knew he should be letting the demon suffer. He had been cast out from Heaven for a reason, obviously, and Aziraphale was risking everything just by talking to him. Now he was trying to make him comfortable? Making sure he didn't die? He felt like he had a connection with this demon, something deeper than emotions. It was stupid; they'd never spoken before, yet Aziraphale was drawn to him. Whatever the reason, he sincerely hoped no one from Heaven was watching as he sheltered a demon from holy water. He wasn't sure how he could explain that.

Crawly was having similar thoughts, only from the opposite perspective. Why was Aziraphale protecting him (he still insisted he didn't need it, but he wasn't going to turn down shelter), when he should've been leaving him? Crawly hoped it was because his angel was still in there, somewhere, despite how the odds were stacked against him. Even if this wasn't completely _his_ Aziraphale, it was still _Aziraphale_. No matter what power Gabriel thought he had, he couldn't change an angel's personality. Not completely. Their memories, yes, but nothing so deeply engrained. So, Crawly thought, he'd stick around Aziraphale the same as he always would have. They'd have to do the whole befriending thing again, but that was okay. It was Aziraphale; he was worth it. He would always be worth it. He’d just have to ignore how his heart yearned for what they’d had before.

But if he ever saw Gabriel's smug, slimy face again, he could guarantee that the altercation would not be at all pretty. Regardless or whether or not _this_ had been his fault, that selfish prick had been asking for a fist in his face for as long as Crawly could remember.

* * *

After the first storm, and Adam and Eve had found somewhere to call a home (Crawly had checked, and reported back to Aziraphale), the demon/angel duo had stayed in the Garden a little longer. Neither had received any new orders from their superiors, so had assumed they were free to do what they wanted until they were contacted. Life on Earth was turning out to be a lot more pleasant than either had expected.

Aziraphale had spent his time casing the joint, exploring all the little nooks and crannies that he found interesting or pretty. He had taken a liking to the carnations, which were all arranged in beautiful patterns. There were so many different colours, and each was breath-taking in its own way. They all complimented each other perfectly, and Aziraphale wanted to congratulate the gardener on a job well done.

Crawly, who spent his time curled around a tree branch in snake form, lounging in the sunshine, had to bite his tongue so he wouldn't tell the angel that _he_ was the one who had planted them all. The demon wasn't sure what would happen if he told Aziraphale about his past, but he wasn't sure he wanted to find out. The two had reached a comfortable agreement where they let each other relax in peace, only exchanging small snippets of conversation, and in return they didn't try to murder the other. 

It was nice, Crawly thought. Comfortable. Nothing close to what they had had, but they were both in precarious positions. The demon wasn't sure what he could safely tell Aziraphale, without losing his trust altogether. There was also the slim, but still possible, chance of something bad happening if Aziraphale ever regained his memory. His brain could burn, for example, or perhaps Gabriel could descend from Heaven and smite them both. Crawly had no clue what the archangel could have done, and that might be the scariest part. He had always known Gabriel was powerful, but he never expected him to use his power for _this_. He could be watching them, right now, and they'd be none the wiser until they were both dead. Or close to it.

In his spare time, Crawly found himself watching the angel. Admiring, really. He was still just as utterly beautiful as he had been back in Heaven, possibly more so. The way he flitted around the Garden, cooing at every living (and non-living) thing he came across was hopelessly endearing. His blond curls glinted in the sunlight, and his eyes seemed to regain their shine the more time he spent in the Garden. Crawly was sure that demons weren't supposed to feel like this, weren't supposed to have their heart skip a beat every time an angel looked at them. Then again, he was pretty sure no other demon had ever felt love before, so maybe he was just the first of his kind. That was something he'd have to keep to himself.

Sometimes, Crawly could almost forget that anything had happened between them, pretend that they hadn't lost all they had. And then Aziraphale would ask him what a certain flower or plant was called, and the demon was dragged back to reality. It especially hurt when Aziraphale asked about a flower that he had created and loved. Though he played it off as a consequence of the snake tongue, Crawly often stuttered during those answers.

For his part, the angel was still wary of Crawly. He had been told what demons were supposed to be like. Actually, he hadn't been told, he'd just _known_. He had no reason to dispute this information, except Crawly didn't really seem capable of any of it. If there were any sins he was guilty of, it would've been sloth. At a stretch, pride, too. He'd seemed like he genuinely cared for Adam and Eve, despite being the reason they had been evicted from Eden. 

The demon also cared for the Garden, that was obvious. The care he took when he walked through the grass, or when he held a flower in his hands, there was nothing demonic about it. Mostly, he spent the days lounging in a tree or laying on a rock, soaking up the sun. At night he could be found gazing up at the stars or sat under The Tree looking very pensive. Aziraphale never asked, as it seemed too private -- too intimate -- but it seemed like the demon had lost something, and the Garden reminded him of it. The angel often caught him admiring the ring on his right hand, in little private moments that Aziraphale was sure he was intruding on. He never meant to spy, but it seemed like they had similar taste when it came to spots in the Garden, as they tended to frequent the same places.

One night, by pure chance, they had ended up stood together on the eastern wall of Eden, watching the sun set. The blue sky slowly changed into purple, then orange, and then finally to black before either of them spoke. 

"I quite like sunset," Aziraphale admitted quietly. "It's rather beautiful, isn't it? Seeing the sky itself change colour like this."

Crawly nodded. "I've always liked the night, myself. Gives the stars a chance to shine, without anything overpowering them." His eyes seemed to naturally gravitate towards the star he'd named _Aziraphale_. It seemed like forever ago, though it really hadn't been too long. "I do love the stars..." 

The demon looked over to Aziraphale and found him staring at the stars with seemingly new interest. Crawly knew better. The angel looked exactly as he did when the redhead had first spoken to him. The circumstances were different, that couldn't be denied, but Crawly felt the same emotions stirring in his chest. He still loved Aziraphale. _This_ Aziraphale. And his Aziraphale, too. They were one and the same. A sudden calm came over the demon at the realisation. He stepped closer to the angel, just as he had done before. Their hands brushed, and still Aziraphale did not pull back. 

They both had a sense of déjà vu. Crawly knew exactly why, though Aziraphale was lost as to why this new situation seemed so familiar. Whatever the reason, he knew it felt good.

They both had the same thought: _This will be worth it. I know it. I want to keep feeling like this, for as long as I can._

And so, they stayed together.

Later, when the sky had turned pitch black and the two supernatural beings still did not move from their perch on the wall, Crawly had pointed out a certain star on the horizon. Specifically, two stars on the horizon. Aziraphale had seemed genuinely interested in what Crawly talked about, though he thankfully did not ask why he knew so much about outer space. The angel had asked about the names of the stars, and Crawly had answered that it was a job for the humans. What he did not say, however, was that one of the stars up there already had a name, unofficial though it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha whoops sorry Crowley, I swear I'll make it up to you soon


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A demon wants to run off to Alpha Centauri. An angel does not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slightly shorter chapter here, but next chapter should be longer (if i ever get round to finishing it)
> 
> edited this while listening to the undertale ost, which meant i had to stop every few minutes to dance and/or cry. so if there's any mistakes, you'll have to blame toby fox.

Six thousand years later, and they had stayed together through it all. They’d had their ups and downs, obviously, but they had grown steadily closer than Crowley would’ve thought possible. Their relationship wasn’t like what it had been in Heaven, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It felt stronger now, likely because of all the problems they had faced together instead of apart. 

The demon had missed the romantic aspects of their old life, but he was determined to go at Aziraphale’s pace. No more going too fast; they had come too far to lose it all again. If all Aziraphale wanted was a nice, platonic friendship, then that is what Crowley would give. Nothing more, nothing less. He would be there whenever the angel needed him, as he always had been. Nothing could ever change that, especially not these _feelings_.

Even though the urge to cup the angel’s soft cheeks and kiss him senseless sometimes reared its head, Crowley had learnt to deal with it years ago. Millennia, really.

Now, however, they had bigger problems to deal with than Crowley’s almost-successfully repressed feelings for Aziraphale. The biggest one being the impending threat of Armageddon and the subsequent annihilation of the entire universe, closely followed by a long and painful punishment in Hell.

He had to reach his angel. They had to talk. Maybe they could run off together, like he’d suggested yesterday. Besides, he still owed the angel a holiday to a certain star, regardless of whether or not said angel remembers that conversation. Maybe they could still do it.

Crowley slammed the brakes on as soon as he saw the little tufts of white hair sticking out in the London crowd outside the bookshop. He pulled the Bentley over to the pavement and jumped out, with little regard for the traffic laws he was breaking or the policemen wandering the streets. The Bentley could deal with those by herself, at this point. 

“Angel!” he yelled, to pull Aziraphale from whatever he was thinking about. It was probably nothing good, considering their current situation. “I’m sorry, I apologise. Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it.” Crowley have never been very good with apologies. He was a demon, after all, and they weren’t supposed to utter anything even vaguely apologetic. He had quickly disregarded that rule; after only a few years on Earth, he and Aziraphale had gotten into an argument. After only a decade of not talking, Crowley had decided that he’d never been so bored or, Satan forbid, _lonely_. It hadn’t been a proper, spoken apology, though the angel seemed to have gotten the idea. He rarely verbally apologised, instead preferring to give Aziraphale a gift or take him to lunch. Now was not the time for something so ambiguous. He couldn’t risk losing his angel, not _now_. “Work with me, I’m apologising here. Yes? Good. Get in the car.”

Aziraphale almost looked like he was going to follow the demon’s instructions, glancing towards the Bentley, though he caught himself in the final second. He seemed to internally chide himself for his foolish behaviour and Crowley wished, not for the first time, that the angel would let himself live a little more. “What?” he asked incredulously, as if this was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. As if the world wasn’t a few hours away from ending and Crowley wasn’t going to be executed for his treason as soon as Hell found him. “No!”

“The forces of Hell have figured out it was my fault. But we can run away together! Alpha Centauri! Lots of spare planets up there, nobody’d even notice us!” Crowley regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Out of all the places he could’ve chosen to visit, his bloody brain had to go and choose bloody Alpha Centauri. The same system he’d stared up at with Aziraphale the first time they’d met, all those years ago in Heaven. The same stars he’d promised to take the angel to on holiday. He'd thought about it, yes, much more than he was willing to admit. But that didn't mean he wanted to say it aloud. He had spent all these years carefully avoiding mentioning the stars, in case it triggered something potentially fatal within the angel. Even now, he was scared Gabriel had left a trap within Aziraphale's mind, meant to deter them from _fraternising_ again. He could lose Aziraphale again, permanently, and that terrified him.

He could almost convince himself that it was all an elaborate dream. That maybe Raphael hadn’t known Aziraphale and Aziraphale hadn’t known Raphael. That maybe the first time they’d met had been in the Garden, after Adam and Eve had been thrown out. It would’ve been easy to believe this, if only his traitorous heart didn’t start beating faster every time he thought about it. If he didn’t still have the ring Aziraphale had made for him, still steadily radiating love, all these years later. He wore it around his neck now, so it hung above his heart. Less questions from curious humans that way. The demon had no way of knowing that the angel’s own amulet was in the same place.

Not for the first time in history, Aziraphale looked towards the stars. They couldn’t see Alpha Centauri, not from their place in the northern hemisphere, but the effect was the same. “Crowley,” he started. Then stopped. He seemed to consider it. Then he shook his head shortly. “You’re being ridiculous."

Crowley wasn't really sure what he expected. He definitely didn't expect to feel a knife in his chest, twisting in the most painful ways at Aziraphale's denial. In hindsight, he probably should have prepared for this outcome. Aziraphale had always been so fond of Earth, despite all its pitfalls and disappointments. Crowley wasn't too surprised that the angel wanted to stick around in the place he loved most in its last few hours. Unfortunately, this did not help the ache in his heart. He could still recall the blond's excitement at the prospect of visiting another planet when he had suggested it, when they first met. He could remember, with astonishing accuracy, the joy in his voice and that crinkle around his eyes as he had agreed to a holiday.

What hurt most was that the Aziraphale in front of him was nothing like this. Those bright, shining blue eyes were frantic with anxiety, his forehead wrinkled in worry. And he was denying something that would have previously brought him so much joy. Crowley wanted to reach out, embrace the angel, whisper sweet assurances into his ear until he calmed. But he wasn't sure what he could have said to make this better without lying. So he just stood there, useless, attempting to will away the pain in his chest.

"Look, I—I'm quite sure, if I can just reach the right people, then I can get all this sorted out,” Aziraphale continued, apparently oblivious to Crowley's turmoil.

If Crowley had to name Aziraphale’s one fault — and don’t misunderstand, there was only one of them — he would have to say it was his limitless belief in things that had let him down too many times before. He still believed Heaven’s lies, even though they had almost gotten him killed countless times. He still believed in God’s Great Plan, despite the fact the Almighty had not bothered to show up _once_ during the last six millennia. The more Crowley thought about it, though, the more he realised that maybe it wasn’t naïve optimism, but the ability to see goodwill and kindness where anyone else would’ve given up hope. 

Or maybe the angel just tricked himself into believing it was there.

“There are no right people!” Crowley admonished. If Aziraphale stuck around to the end of the world, there was no guarantee that he’d survive whatever was to come. He couldn’t risk that. “There’s just God, moving in mysterious ways and _not talking to any of us!_”

Aziraphale looked slightly put out at Crowley’s words, though his resolve held strong. “Well, yes. That is why I am going to have a word with the Almighty, and then the Almighty will fix it,” he said, matter-of-factly. Like this was his last choice, and he didn’t know what he’d do if it didn’t work, so he simply didn’t think about it.

Not for the first time in their long lives, Crowley cursed his angel’s stubbornness. “That— won’t happen. You’re so clever! How can somebody as clever as you be so stupid?” He stared at Aziraphale in disbelief and wondered if he really thought God would interfere with Her own divine plan, or if he was just in denial.

The angel seemed to scowl at being called stupid, then the rest of the words registered in his mind. He paused when he realised that Crowley had actually, genuinely complimented him, without any trace of malice or teasing. “I forgive you,” he eventually replied, just to say _something_.

Crowley sighed. He had known he wouldn’t be able to chance Aziraphale’s mind, but that didn’t stop him. He turned towards his Bentley. Back to Aziraphale. And back to the Bentley again. “I’m going home, angel.” He made his way over to the driver’s side door, giving the angel a chance to reconsider. He didn’t move. “I’m getting my stuff and I’m leaving! And when I’m off in the stars, I won’t even think about you!”

This whole statement was a lie, of course. One of the few he had ever told Aziraphale. For one thing, Crowley could never imagine leaving his angel behind anywhere. Especially not with Armageddon so close, not when their lives were both on the line. He also could never imagine forgetting his angel. The concept seemed unthinkable, really. An unforgivable sin. Or should that be virtue...?

It was like the default setting for his mind was to think about Aziraphale; where he was at that moment in time, if he was safe, if Heaven had been treating him well, etc, etc. Lots of undemonic thoughts for the supposed demon. He had gotten used to them millennia ago, and while his worrying had decreased since they started living in the same city, it would feel wrong — sacrilegious, even — to not have him on his mind.

At Crowley’s words, Aziraphale seemed to come close to tears, though he tried to hide it. The demon resisted the urge to comfort him, instead jumped into the Bentley and slammed the door behind him. Hell would be paying him a visit soon, he was sure. If Aziraphale wouldn’t go to the stars with him, then the demon wouldn’t bother. He’d stay on Earth, face whatever heavenly or hellish pawns he had to face, as long as it meant he could be by Aziraphale. For as long as the angel would have him, he would be there.

With that in mind, he sped home. He had a date with some holy water and some demons, if his suspicions were correct. He could only hope he’d live to see Aziraphale again; he’d hate to leave their relationship on such a sour note. The angel deserved better than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i sat down at my computer a few hours ago, i looked at my recent documents. there was this fic, and there was my first assignment for college, which is due in 2 days and is still unfinished. i'm now here, and not a single word has been written for my assignment. but hey, at least i'm writing _something_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confession is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was supposed to be published a day or so ago but I started knitting again and my hands have been occupied with that. this was written in small snippets throughout my day so if something doesn't make complete sense,, that's why
> 
> regardless, hope you enjoy!

An angel and demon duo had entered the Ritz one afternoon and had not left until the moon had risen high into the sky and the manager had to personally kick them out. 

Aziraphale had talked for most of the time, not that Crowley would have it any other way. He seemed to talk about anything and everything under the sun, with such interest and devotion that you’d think it had been a direct gift from God. Even after all these years, Crowley still thought it was horribly endearing. 

They had emptied several bottles of the best wine on the menu, and Aziraphale had ordered all his favourite dishes, even tempting Crowley into trying a bite of the crêpes. The demon had grumbled something about how they’d better taste bloody heavenly for thirty-six quid, and Aziraphale had decidedly not commented on how money was not a problem for them, instead choosing to lift his fork up to Crowley’s mouth. The demon took a bite, not bothering to hold the fork himself, and sat back with a satisfied smirk as he chewed. 

Aziraphale had cleared his throat and prayed that his blush wasn’t too obvious in the dimmed lights of the restaurant. While he had certainly hoped that would happen, he didn’t expect Crowley to go through with it. “Good?” he asked, voice a pitch higher than normal.

The demon shrugged in that infuriating way of his, hiding his emotions behind a cool façade and dark glasses. Aziraphale wished he could pull them off right then and there, but he knew the demon would not have reacted well to that. They were his armour; they protected him from stupid human questions, and they hid the feelings demons weren’t supposed to feel. Maybe, now that they’d both escaped from their respective superiors, Crowley could spend less time with the glasses on. Aziraphale truly hoped so, he loved seeing those serpentine eyes, though he had never plucked up the courage to tell the demon that. Maybe in a few of his fantasies, he’d been able to pull the glasses from his demon’s face and stare into those loving, amber eyes, but this was reality. Nothing ever went well for them, especially not something as important as this. 

In truth, Aziraphale was still not sure if they had gotten over the fiasco of 1967 and the holy water. There hadn’t been a significant gap of time where they avoided each other, and nothing in their relationship had changed drastically, but Aziraphale couldn’t shake the feeling that Crowley was holding back now, for fear of _going too fast._ There were many things the angel wanted to say to that. _“I’m ready, now.”; “I’ve finally caught up with you, my dear.”; “You’re not going too fast anymore.”_ All of these were true, and any of them would have worked, but Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure how you broach a topic that had been carefully buried for the last 52 years. 52 years and 96 days, to be exact, not that he was counting.

He hoped that something would change between them, now that Armageddon had been averted and they had escaped Heaven and Hell. They no longer had to hide. It felt like they were on the brink of a massive change, something that would transform everything they had come to know over the last 6,000 years, but they were both waiting for the other to make the first move. Beating around the bush. One little push, and everything would be irrevocably altered. Aziraphale could only hope it would be for the best. They would be in uncharted territory, soon. Whenever one of them took the leap.

They walked back to the bookshop in companionable silence. Aziraphale had exhausted his list of things to rant about during their lunch-dinner-dessert-wine session at the Ritz and had started thinking instead. Looking and thinking. He looked at Crowley’s hair and thought about how much it had changed throughout the millennia. He looked at Crowley’s eyes and thought about how they hadn’t. His gaze flitted down to Crowley’s lips – and back up when he caught himself – and Aziraphale thought about how much he’d like to kiss those lips. It wasn’t the first time he had thought that, not by a long shot. He had thought that, on and off, for centuries. But this was the first time he had any hope of following through with it. He could see himself grabbing the lapels of Crowley’s jacket, pushing him against the nearest wall, and snogging him bloody senseless. If Crowley would let him.

He didn’t act on this thought, of course, as they were both walking down a dim London street, and Aziraphale was sure they would both prefer some privacy. That obviously was not a good enough reason for his brain, which kept imagining the scenario in vivid, almost photorealistic detail. He could only hope that Crowley hadn’t suddenly developed the skill to read his mind.

He tried to distract himself, but nothing managed to capture his interest quite like Crowley’s lips. Not even the bribe of Oscar Wilde could pry his thoughts away from the demon beside him. The bookshop couldn’t come into view quick enough.

At this time of night, there were few other humans around, most choosing to get a good night’s sleep for the workday tomorrow. It was quiet, almost eerily so. London was never silent, not really, but getting this close to peace was a miracle in and of itself. Aziraphale wondered distantly if perhaps the Almighty was looking out for them after all but found he couldn’t decide one way or another. He hadn’t heard from Her personally since Eden and couldn’t even be sure She was still watching over them. Maybe She had gotten bored of this universe and moved on to create another one. Maybe She was entertaining Herself some other way, by adding more extra-terrestrial life, just to spice things up around here. Or maybe She was watching them, after all. She might have watched Aziraphale attend the Hellish trial, and Crowley show up to the Heavenly execution. It was entirely likely no one would ever know what She did with her free time anymore.

For his part, Crowley had heard enough talk from Heaven about their _good will_ and _forgiveness_ for a lifetime. He had stood there, very patiently, and watched them attempt to murder one of their own. Murder _Aziraphale_. It was worse than 6,000 years ago, when Crowley had Fallen, only to find his love had had his memory erased. Hellfire would've been a permanent death, and Crowley thanked G— Sa— _whoever_ that he was in Aziraphale's place. The demon thought he deserved a damn medal for not socking Gabriel in the jaw the moment he had given him that greasy, half-assed smile. 

He still couldn’t believe he’d survived. They’d both survived. Heaven had been ready — excited — to execute one of their own. There was no remorse on their faces, or guilt over ending a God-given life. Of course, Hell had been prepared to do exactly the same, but it was the angels who constantly preached about how forgiving they were, and about how it was wrong to take life. 

And the way they had looked at Aziraphale’s body, like he was somehow below them. The way they spoke to him, as if angels were just supposed to obey orders, even if it led to their demise. And the _disgust_ evident in their voices. It— well. It made Crowley’s blood boil; made him feel like he could march up to Heaven and destroy every single angel that had ever wronged Aziraphale in any way. At least Hell were upfront about their core values. 

Regardless, it was over. For now. If Crowley ever even _heard_ the name Gabriel ever again, it would be too soon. 

As they walked, they both let the quiet sounds of London wash over them while they thought. It was something neither of them had really appreciated before. Traffic had always managed to interrupt Crowley’s naps, and useless small talk had distracted Aziraphale from his reading too many times to count. 

Yet today, they couldn’t be more thankful for it. The car speeding down a street somewhere behind them, horn blaring despite the time; the group of tourists huddled on a street corner, trying to find their way back to their hotel; the drunk man on a bench somewhere nearby, snoring loudly. It’s what made London feel so _alive_. All these humans — lovely, wonderful, horrible humans — they would never know how close they came to losing all this. Losing everything they cared for.

Crowley knew. Crowley had felt that sense of loss, after he ran into a burning bookshop to save the only being he ever cared about, only to find that he was too late.

It had burned in a way the fire could never even hope to. It felt like every gram of hope or optimism Crowley was in possession of was being charred and burnt until there was nothing left but dry ash. The ash choked him, thicker than the smoke in his lungs, and it absorbed every ounce of heat, leaving him shivering and numb. The fire in his chest didn’t produce heat, it absorbed it.

Crowley wasn’t sure what he could do to regain that vital warmth; Aziraphale was gone. The only thing that had ever heated Crowley in any meaningful way had been the angel’s smile, or his laugh, or his rambling. The sight of him. Aziraphale himself. 

The demon had always been aware of this, of course, but nothing could’ve prepared him for how it would feel to have that sensation ripped from your core in the matter of a few seconds. 

He had lost the Almighty’s Love, when he had Fallen. This was worse. This was so much worse.

Aziraphale’s presence had become as familiar to Crowley as the back of his hand, after six millennia together. They could be on opposite sides of the world, and the demon would still be able to sense him. When one of them was reporting to Head Office, he could feel that comforting warmth. Even during his Fall, Crowley had relied on the heat always being there. 

But as soon as Crowley had stumbled into the bookshop, he had known something was wrong. He had prayed and preached and beseeched to whoever was listening that he was imagining things, but alas. Aziraphale was no more. His soul was cold and empty.

He wondered, vaguely, if this was how other demons felt, all the time. The demons that hadn’t fallen in love. For all the pain it had caused him, Crowley never would’ve given it up. Not for the world.

Now he had been forced to.

And so, Crowley had done the only thing he could think to do. He tried to drink himself into oblivion. And hoped the heat in his stomach could somehow compare to his angel’s warmth. 

It didn’t. It could never come close. But he kept drinking.

What was the point in saving the world if Aziraphale wasn’t there?

How could Crowley save _his_ world if it had already perished in a fire?

And then Aziraphale was sat in front of him, a bright shining star in the dim pub. Even as he ducked into the Bentley, Crowley wasn’t completely convinced the angel had been real. A figment of his imagination, perhaps? Advanced into a hallucination by the alcohol? Even now, as they wandered together through London, it was almost impossible to believe.

Within a few seconds of being in the midst of the fire, the demon was so sure he had lost Aziraphale. To have him back, safe and sound and _alive_, felt like more than he deserved. If he didn’t know better, he would say the Almighty had helped him.

Crowley looked over to the angel and found him already looking back. For once, neither of them turned their heads or apologised, instead they revelled in it, with small, bashful smiles. 

The demon snaked a hand down to find Aziraphale’s and intertwined their fingers together. Hesitantly, at first, so as to give the angel time to pull away, if he wanted. When he didn’t, Crowley gave the hand a gentle squeeze, hiding his smile when the blond squeezed back.

They turned a corner and A.Z. Fell & Co. came into view. Crowley let out a shuddering breath. Yes, he had seen the bookshop this morning, but with the smell of burning paper and ink still in his nose, it never hurt to make sure. 

Beside him, Aziraphale blew out a long and steadying breath. The angel had not seen the damage wreaked by the fire, but Crowley suspected it was not a pleasant thing to leave to the imagination. 

They stopped across the street from the shop. The demon grounded himself with whatever he could. The feeling of Aziraphale’s hand gripping his, the stench of tobacco from a man walking behind them, the rumble of the few cars still out at his hour.

_This is real_, he told himself. _This is real life, and Aziraphale is alive and the bookshop is not burnt and you’re going to be_ fine.

The angel glanced at him, a hint of concern in the way his eyebrows drew together. “Ready, my dear?”

Crowley shrugged, feigning nonchalance and missing entirely. He didn’t trust his mouth not to say something stupid, so he nodded in ascent instead, focused on the feeling of Aziraphale’s thumb rubbing comforting patterns on his wrist.

The angel took a deep breath, then strode forward and pushed open the door. If a human had tried that, they would’ve found it to be locked. Fortunately for him, Aziraphale was not human.

The bookshop smelt as it always did, like musty paper, vanilla, and a small amount of cocoa. It looked almost identical, too, with the small changes being made by Adam, seemingly on purpose. Aziraphale gravitated to the new set of books Adam had gifted him, letting go of Crowley’s hand in the process.

The demon didn’t take it personally, he knew how Aziraphale felt about his bookshop. It was only natural that he’d want to ensure everything was up to his standards. He longed for the heat of their joined hands; he could still feel the ghost of where his fingers had lay. 

Crowley was cold again.

Not in the same way he had been, a few hours before Armageddon. This was different. Whereas that had left his soul numb and empty, this left him yearning. Longing for Aziraphale’s heat. Longing for Aziraphale.

Crowley moved without thinking. He wanted Aziraphale, so his legs took him to Aziraphale.

There was a small shuffle from around the angel’s desk, and then Aziraphale turned around, smile as wide as ever, overjoyed that his shop was okay. “Crowley—” he started, and then abruptly stopped. His smile fell, ever so slightly.

Crowley wondered what Aziraphale had seen that made him stop grinning and swore he would punish it for its crimes. It was then that he noticed the angel’s eyes were trained directly on him, eyebrows drawing together.

“My dear, whatever is the matter?” Aziraphale asked, placing whatever book he was holding on the desk and approaching slowly, arms slightly raised.

The demon tried to say something to reassure his angel. To ask what had gotten into him. But as he opened his mouth to speak, he found his throat seemed tighter than normal, like there was a lump in it. Something rolled down his cheek, he reached up to stop it. A tear?

Crowley looked back at Aziraphale. His warmth. His light. His angel. 

His best friend.

His love.

The one he very nearly lost forever.

Aziraphale. Standing in front of him, unsure how to help. His hands were slightly raised, like he had almost gone in for a hug, but thought better of it at the last moment. That was all the encouragement Crowley needed. 

With almost inhuman speed, Crowley stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s torso, burying his head into the crook of the angel’s neck. The blond reacted quickly, putting his arms around the demon’s shoulders and rubbing his back soothingly. He was always very good at reading the him.

Crowley opened his mouth to say something, but instead let a strangled sob past his lips. Aziraphale responded by shushing him gently and murmuring various words of comfort. Crowley wasn’t listening properly. He was too focused on the way the angel’s voice travelled through his body. The way he felt more than heard it. 

They had never been this close before.

At least, not since Eden.

Physically, yes, they had been close. Of course, they had. But they usually had excuses for their actions, too. _“It’s tradition to kiss on the cheek as a form of greeting,”_ or _“We’ll look suspicious if we don’t dance at a ball.”_

But they had never been this close _emotionally_. Not by conscious effort, and certainly not while sober. 

Aziraphale had always been slightly wary of showing emotion to his counterpart, scared of Gabriel — or, Heaven forbid, God Herself — catching them and smiting both angel and demon. It wasn’t the worst way to go, he supposed. After all, he could’ve died in the burning bookshop, all alone.

Crowley had always hidden his feelings. Insisted that, as a demon, he was incapable of feeling anything other than hatred. A lie, obviously, but Aziraphale never pointed it out. The few times he let anything slip had been late at night, after he and the angel had been drinking for hours. Aziraphale was very pleased to know that he was one of the very few people that had properly seen Crowley, emotions and all.

“I—” Crowley started, then stopped as he felt another sob building up. He didn’t like crying. It was tiring and made him feel gross. He had avoided it as much as possible throughout his many years. It was only natural that his dam had to burst at some point. “I thought I lost you…” he managed to choke out, voice barely above a whisper.

Aziraphale pulled the demon tighter against his chest. “Oh, my dear…” he sighed softly. “You could never lose me. It would take a lot more than _that_ to keep me away from you.”

Crowley sniffled, then took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his sobs. “But w—what if Heaven and Hell keep trying? What if they come after us again, and I have to watch you—” The demon didn’t finish his sentence. “Even if you were d—discorporated, you’d never get another body, not from Heaven.” Crowley pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, still enclosed in Aziraphale’s warmth. If he had a choice, he doubted he would ever leave. “And I don’t know any black-market body dealers for angels.” He gave a weak chuckle at his joke.

Aziraphale’s lips quirked up slightly and he let his chin rest on Crowley’s shoulder. “It’s alright, dearest, I won’t let that happen, and I know you won’t either. Whatever happens, we’ll always have each other.” He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of the demon gripping his overcoat in two trembling fists. Out of his six thousand years’ worth of memories on Earth, he hoped this was one he could remember in crystal clear clarity.

“You’re so good to me,” Crowley mumbled, speaking directly into Aziraphale’s shoulder.

The angel wasn’t sure he was supposed to have heard the tiny confession, judging by how Crowley stiffened but didn’t move when he let out a small chuckle. “Of course I am, dearest, I love you.”

And at last, the words Aziraphale had been wanting to say for God knows how long had slipped past his lips. He hadn’t planned to confess then, but it had just felt right to do so. Heaven and Hell were off their backs for the foreseeable future, God still hadn’t smote them, and they’d just averted Armageddon for Christ’s sake. After all these years, Aziraphale had had enough of going slow.

It hadn’t been much of an explosion, nor did he feel any butterflies. But it wasn’t exactly a new revelation, either. Sure, when he’d first realised he was in love, while clutching a bag of unharmed books and watching Crowley saunter away from a destroyed church, he’d been a bit of a disaster. Falling in love with the Opposition was... unprecedented, to say the least. 

But as time passed, and nothing particularly changed between them because of it. After a few years, loving Crowley became as natural as breathing. Though, Aziraphale supposed, he'd loved Crowley for as long as he could remember, really. Now he just had a name to put to the warmth in his chest.

Crowley pulled back as soon as the angel’s words registered, eyes wide. He stared in shock, then apparently remembered he needed to speak to get his point across. “You _what?_”

Aziraphale cocked an eyebrow at Crowley’s incredulous tone. “Why, my dear boy, I said I love you. I thought it was obvious at this point.”

The demon eyed Aziraphale suspiciously, then set his face into a hard neutral, hiding his eyes behind dark lenses again. “Oh. Yeah, no, of course. _Angelic love_ and all that bullshit, right?” He loosened his hold on Aziraphale and stepped out of the hug. “Should’ve known...”

_Ah,_ Aziraphale thought, remorseful. _Did I really make it that hard for him to believe?_ He reached forward to grab Crowley’s retreating form, holding onto his wrists. The demon turned around, slightly, and even below the glasses Aziraphale could see his eyes shining.

“Oh, dearest, I am truly sorry it took so long for me to catch up to you. You’re not too fast for me anymore, Crowley. I love you, honestly and sincerely, more than any of God’s creatures. I love you in ways I can’t describe, ways so deeply engrained in my soul that I can’t imagine living any other way. I guess you could say it was... ineffable.” Aziraphale watched Crowley intently as he spoke, searching his face for an ounce of acceptance.

The demon stared at him for a long moment, then, with a shaking hand, removed his glasses and dropped them carelessly behind him. Aziraphale redirected them to land on the sofa with a small wave of his hand. 

The demon murmured something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “Don’t wake me up...” and took one long stride over to the angel. The next thing either of them knew, Aziraphale was being kissed very thoroughly.

Only a few seconds later, Aziraphale was standing stock still in Crowley’s arms, eyes wide with shock. The demon noticed the change almost immediately and pulled away, scared of overwhelming the angel.

Aziraphale seemed completely vacant on the outside, almost like he was asleep. His eyes were not idle. They were dragging over every object in the room with seemingly new interest. Including Crowley’s face. _Particularly_ Crowley’s face.

Crowley had seen almost every emotion on his angel’s face over the last 6,000 years (and before). He had seen nothing like this before.

The closest comparison his brain could make, which made him feel sick, was that Aziraphale was looking at him like he had on the wall in Eden. _After_ Crowley had Fallen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not gonna lie, next chapter might be a while cause I have exactly zero words written. not even a basic plan but that's FINE. 
> 
> hope you enjoyed! comments and kudos and bookmarks and everything you all do is absolutely brilliant, thank you so so much, even if you just read a word then dipped. aaahhh!!!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An archangel in punished and an angel and a demon find peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so so sorry this took so long to finish !! i watched broadchurch, and then i watched it again and it sorta took over my life. but i found time to write today so i did most of this! sorry if there's any mistakes, i'm exhausted. and i'm not 100% happy with some of it and i think it's kinda ooc but you know what? that's okay. i hope you enjoy!

In two words, Crowley was freaking out. In four words, Crowley was freaking _the fuck_ out.

Aziraphale stood in front of him, hands hanging down by his side, almost completely vacant. Like he was asleep and dreaming, with his eyes open. The demon put a cautious hand on his shoulder, slowly, to avoid spooking him. 

“Aziraphale...?” he asked, desperately trying to stay calm, ignoring the way his palms were sweating. “Angel, can you hear me?”

Crowley stared at the angel intently, hoping to quell the panic growing in his chest. Aziraphale was still _here_, still _not dead_, he was just... unresponsive. Just because that had never happened before in the last sixty centuries, didn’t mean Crowley should go apeshit about it.

He stared into Aziraphale’s eyes. They looked normal, still shone brilliantly like they always had. But there was something in them that Crowley didn’t recognise. An emotion he couldn’t name. Fear, maybe? Sadness? No, neither of those were quite right.

He should have known better than to push Aziraphale. Yes, that was it, he had overwhelmed the angel and he just needed some time to catch up. The demon had spent the last 6,000 years deliberately slowing himself down, repressing his emotions, and nothing had happened between them. What was so different about today? 

Distantly, Crowley remembered Aziraphale confessing his love for the demon, and looking at him _like that_. Honestly, it was no surprise that Crowley’s resolve had crumbled; the angel had used his damn puppy eyes. He had _wanted_ that, wanted Crowley to kiss him, almost as much as the demon himself had.

Maybe he was taking time to process what had happened? There had been a massive leap in their relationship within the space of a few seconds, Crowley wouldn’t blame him for taking a minute to sort everything out. He would do the same, if only he had a moment to spare.

With a start, Crowley thought about the memory wipe he thought Gabriel had performed all those years ago. Could that have something to do with Aziraphale’s reaction, somehow? The demon had always worried that the archangel had left a booby trap or two inside Aziraphale’s mind, something to deter him from trying to remember his past life. Maybe he got a headache if he tried to think about it for too long, maybe he’d get his memory wiped again if he did remember. Or, _maybe_, Aziraphale would go into comatose state if something reminded him about _before_.

They had kissed in Heaven, sure. Nothing like how desperate and longing that kiss had been, but it was a kiss, nonetheless. What if that had been enough to remind him of that time? What if Aziraphale was stuck like this forever, as some type of sadistic punishment? What if he was in the process of having his memory wiped and there was nothing Crowley could do?

If Gabriel had done something, the demon swore he’d march up to Heaven and tear the archangel _limb from limb_. _No one_ messed with angel and got away with it, _especially_ not for a second time. He had failed to protect Aziraphale too many times already, he would not let this follow the trend.

While Crowley was plotting the various ways he could cause the most pain to anyone who dared lay a finger on Aziraphale, his own angel began to stir. Slowly, at first, starting with a quiet intake of breath, similar to a gasp. The demon looked over, curious, but terrified of what he might find. Was Aziraphale still _here_, was he still himself?

Aziraphale’s knees buckled and Crowley swooped forward, catching him under the arms in one smooth motion. He held the angel close, just for a second, before creating a plush armchair—tartan, obviously—behind him. The demon guided him to sink into the chair, reluctantly letting go of his shoulders when Aziraphale seemed comfortable. 

Crowley crouched in front of the armchair, at eye level with his angel. “Aziraphale...?” he asked slowly, still wary of scaring him. 

Aziraphale took in a deep, unnecessary breath, and looked at Crowley. _Properly_ looked. “Oh, my…” he breathed, eyes filling with tears. “Oh, my dear… I’m so sorry…”

As if acting on instinct, Crowley reached to wipe the tears trailing down his angel’s cheek. “Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for, angel. You’ve done absolutely nothing wrong.” He spoke softly, entirely confused by what Aziraphale was saying, but unwilling to let him suffer. “It’s alright, angel, we’re both okay.”

The angel stumbled through a shuddering sob, wrapping his fingers around the redhead’s wrists. “I knew you before you Fell,” he uttered, voice raspy and quiet, as if scared of being heard.

Crowley was stunned. Actually, physically speechless. That had never happened before. It was like every single comprehensible thought he could’ve created had been sucked clean from his brain. 

“_What._” After tripping over his words for almost ten seconds straight, he finally managed a one-word reply. It wasn’t a question; he had heard Aziraphale clear as day. It didn’t have a particular tone or inflection attached to it; Crowley wasn’t sure what in the Hell he was supposed to be feeling at the moment. 

Had Aziraphale been lying to him all these years? Making him believe the angel had lost his memory? But for what? What could Aziraphale _possibly_ gain from that? Was he ashamed to have known Crowley in Heaven? Did he want to pretend it had never happened?

Well, Crowley certainly had something to say about _that_.

The demon stiffened, preparing himself to pull away from Aziraphale’s touch, but was stopped short at the look on Aziraphale’s face. He looked _terrified_.

“Crowley, dearest, _please_ hear me out…”

No. No, there was no way in Hell that Aziraphale had lied to him for all these years, it was preposterous to even suggest it.

“What,” Crowley repeated, apparently too stunned to form any other words. His mind was suggesting a long string of swears to properly vocalise his feelings, but his mouth wasn’t cooperating.

Aziraphale took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to pull himself together. “I—I said I knew you in Heaven, dear boy. Before you Fell.” The angel looked off to the side, eyes glossing over slightly, trying to grasp a memory that kept slipping through his fingers. “...Raphael, yes?”

Crowley sucked in a breath. Why did it still sound so heavenly, even after all that had happened? “That’s not my name. Not anymore.” Subconsciously, he started putting space between him and the angel, trying to rid his mind of the memories that name brought with it.

“No, no, of course not, dear. But it was you, right? The archangel I fell in love with in Heaven?” Aziraphale’s cheeks flushed light pink, and Crowley thought it was adorable. He then quickly banished that thought.

“I... I really hope so,” the demon admitted in a small whisper, mostly to himself. “What happened? Why suddenly tell me this now? We’ve had six thousand years, angel. _Please._”

“Oh, Crowley dearest, no…” Aziraphale put a delicate hand on Crowley’s cheek, stared into his eyes. “After you disappeared, I was devastated. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t work, I didn’t even move. I couldn’t.”

“I was always going to come back, angel. I could never dream of leaving you.” The demon almost looked away from the fondness in Aziraphale’s eyes, but promptly decided he couldn’t live without that look ever again. “Please never doubt that…”

“After a while,” Aziraphale continued, stopping to wipe his eyes. “Gabriel visited, with the other archangels.”

Crowley practically snarled at the mention of Gabriel. “I _knew_ that bastard had something to do with this.”

The angel nodded solemnly, reaching up to smooth the wrinkles in Crowley’s brow. “I don’t remember most of what we talked about, but I do remember that he performed some sort of miracle, and I just sort of… forgot everything.”

“So, he _did_ wipe your memory!”

Aziraphale raised a questioning eyebrow. “You knew? All this time?”

Crowley grimaced. “I… suspected... Theoretically, Gabriel had the power to wipe an angel’s memory. No one had ever done it before, so I couldn’t be sure. But it was either that or believe that you just didn’t want to associate with a demon.”

“Darling, I could never…” The angel slipped his hands into Crowley’s and squeezed them reassuringly. “May I ask why you didn’t just tell me all this earlier?” He didn’t sound angry or disappointed, just curious. Crowley thanked his lucky stars [1] that he was taking this whole thing well.

“I was scared,” he admitted. “Scared you wouldn’t believe me, or that you wouldn’t still want to be with me. There was also a possibility that Gabriel had left a booby trap in your mind, which would activate if you ever remembered.” Crowley gave a humourless chuckle. “Guess I shouldn’t have worried, huh?”

Aziraphale looked like he was about to cry again. “Thank you…” He gave a watery sniffle.

“For what?” Crowley was confused. Surely, they’d just established that he was the reason it had taken six thousand years to get to where they once had been?

“For always looking out for me,” the angel answered simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You always put me ahead of yourself, and I think it’s about damn time I started thanking you for it.” 

The demon didn’t have anything to say to that—nothing that wasn’t horribly embarrassing and sappy, at least—so he leaned forward, put his forehead against his angel’s. When their lips met, it felt like coming home to a warm embrace after a very _very_ long, hard day. For both of them.

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped, pulling back and putting a hand to his cheek in surprise. His eyes were still twinkling with tears, though they crinkled at the corners. “Oh, how could I forget?” He reached down his shirt front and, just as Crowley was about to make a questioning noise, pulled out a golden amulet.

Suddenly, any noise Crowley could have possibly made was unable to leave his throat.

It was _his_ golden amulet. Tiny star still shining from behind the bars.

“…You kept it? All this time?” Crowley reached out tentatively, brushed a hand over the cage. He stared into Aziraphale’s eyes, searching for an explanation.

The angel smiled, almost bashfully. “I suppose so… It felt so important, so loved, I thought I should keep it close to me.” He placed a hand over Crowley’s. “I never let it out of my sight, not for six thousand years.”

Speechless, the demon stared at his angel. “I love you.” It was unbidden, tumbling out of his mouth with no warning. No string of words had ever been truer. “Oh, and—” The demon reached down his own shirt front, pulling up a scarlet ring that shimmered, even in the dim lights of the bookshop.

Crowley was sure that the look of fondness Aziraphale was giving him could kill a lesser man. His corporeal body was already feeling the effects, if the erratic beating of his heart was anything to go by. 

Aziraphale reached out to run a finger over the ring in Crowley’s palm. “I love you, too.” It almost didn’t need to be said, but it made his heart speed up, nonetheless.

“We’re idiots, aren’t we?” Crowley chuckled, dragging a hand down his face, leaving his grin intact. “God…”

Aziraphale beamed at his counterpart. Just as he was about to reply, a flash of light from behind a bookshelf caught his eye. The first thing he noticed was that it wasn’t human. He could almost taste the _grace_ radiating off whatever was in the bookshop with them.

Crowley had seen it too, judging by the way his jaw set and he miracled his glasses back onto his face with a flick of his wrist. They looked at each other and stepped towards the disturbance, the demon holding a hand out to protect his angel.

Aziraphale opened his mouth to say that _he_ should be the one protecting the demon, assuming this _thing_ was angelic but stopped when Crowley held up a finger. He desperately wished he still owned his flaming sword, wished he could be the one to protect his love and their home. As it was, he would have to make do with an umbrella a customer had left in the store a few days ago. Maybe if he brandished it as a weapon, the intruder would get the general idea and leave them alone. Wishful thinking, no doubt.

Crowley wasn’t doing much better in the weapons department. Both his hands were empty, clenched into fists, as if he was planning to fight his way out of this. He may be a demon that had been on Earth for six thousand years, but he had never bothered learning to fight, at least not properly. Aziraphale suspected that he was relying on his instincts, particularly the serpentine ones, to help him. 

Together, they stepped around the bookshelf to face what had caused the flash of light. Crowley's palms were sweating, and he quickly made a vow to protect the life he and Aziraphale had carved out here, together. They had come too close to losing it too many times recently, and he would be _blessed_ if he was going to let some intruder take it away from them, only a matter of hours after they had faced down their respective bosses and Satan Himself.

Aziraphale reached blindly for Crowley’s hand, and slotted their fingers together neatly. Neither angel nor demon dared to blink, let alone breathe.

Before them, _something_ was emitting light. A lot of it, slightly heavenly if the unnatural heat on Crowley’s skin was anything to go by. Yes, something was radiating light. The real trouble came with trying to identify exactly _what_.

The _thing_ was human shaped, vaguely. It had all the necessary limbs to qualify as human, but they kept _shifting_. One arm would grow longer while the other seemed to retreat upwards, even if only slightly, and then they would reverse the action. It fluctuated in height, going from the size of a child to a basketball player in the space of a few seconds. The worst part was that you could never see these transformations take place; as soon as you blinked or looked away, it would change.

Crowley’s heart stomach could’ve sunk all the way to Hell, laws of physics be damned. He knew who this was. He had spoken to Her, all those years ago.

“Yes, child?” it spoke, commanding and caring at the same time. The Figure turned to face the both of them, but was very clearly talking to Crowley, despite the lack of eyes or any other facial feature. 

The demon took a deep breath. “You better not be who I think you are…” he managed through gritted teeth. Out of everyone he could have possibly wanted to see here and now, _She_ was nowhere on the list. Not after everything She had let him and Aziraphale go through. “All-loving? Bullshit,” he spat. 

The Figure did not appear to have heard him.

Aziraphale put a hand to his mouth at Crowley’s tone. He had realised who their visitor was, and while he wasn’t totally disapproving of the demon’s words, he was slightly taken aback that anyone could talk to God in that way. He squeezed the redhead’s hand in what he hoped was a calming gesture.

It seemed to work, and Crowley took a step back. A tense moment passed before he spoke again, this time in a more measured voice. “Six thousand years, and not a word from You. Not a sign, not even the tiniest of miracles.”

“The Plan is ineffable, Raphael.”

Crowley almost laughed. _Almost_. “That’s _not my name_,” he practically snarled. He felt Aziraphale rub a small pattern into the back of his hand and remembered of how much was at stake here. If he pissed off God, he was fucked, no two ways around it. You couldn’t Fall twice, so that promised a special eternity of torture for any demon who was unlucky enough to get to that point.

“_Crowley_, Aziraphale. My children.” The demon sneered, while the angel remained stoic, not entirely sure what he should be feeling. “I am not here to hurt you, or to punish you; all you have done is love, and that is all I could ever ask. The Plan may be ineffable, but there was one part that was not supposed to happen.”

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a glance. To anyone else, they would look completely neutral, but after 6,000 years they had learned to read each other pretty well. They could see the apprehension in the way Aziraphale’s eyebrows drew together slightly, or in the way the corner of Crowley’s lips turned downwards, almost imperceptibly. They each squeezed the other’s hand, then turned back to face the incarnation of God Herself.

“Archangel Gabriel,” God commanded, and within an instant, the bastard himself was stood in the bookshop.

“Yes, Lord?” he asked, then surveyed his surroundings. He glared at the angel and demon duo as soon as he noticed them. They glared right back. “Why am I here, Almighty?” He tried to keep the disdain out of his voice; it wasn’t angelic to hate something, after all. Especially not a fellow angel. 

“Something has come to my attention, Archangel Gabriel. Something to do with Crowley and Aziraphale here—” Gabriel’s eyes lit up. “—and you.”

For a moment, the archangel looked confused. Then he seemed to realise what the Almighty was referring to. “Lord…?” he questioned shakily. 

“Archangel Gabriel, a few years ago, I remember you telling me—pleading, really—to split up a certain angelic couple. Saying they’d cause another Revolution with their disobedience.”

Aziraphale rounded on Gabriel in a split second. “You _what_.” The angel rarely had any reason to use his most dangerous voice outside of telling particularly rude customers that his first editions were _not_ for sale. Gabriel, preacher of benevolence and altruism (though he rarely actually practiced either of these two traits), was particularly taken aback at Aziraphale’s tone 

God remained entirely unphased. “It has come to my attention, Gabriel, that you were wrong. In fact, I believe you lied to me in order to hurt these two beings, who had done nothing wrong.”

At that, the archangel stopped the glaring contest he was having with Aziraphale and looked over to the glowing Figure, shocked. “W—what?” he asked in disbelief. “Mother, I could never… You know I could never do such a thing!” Subconsciously, Gabriel placed the palms of his hands together, like he was in prayer. 

The Figure shook its head disapprovingly. “That is what I would have liked to believe, too,” it said, with a disconcerting calmness. “Unfortunately, as has been proven to me today, it seems you are completely capable of it.”

Gabriel shook his head quickly. For the first time in his life, he seemed almost panicked. “No, no, you’ve got it all wrong! These two really did pose a threat to the peace we had in Heaven! They averted Armageddon, too! They directly disobeyed your orders! They’re clearly dangerous and deserve to be split up!” Now, the archangel sounded close to pleading. He knew that whatever God had in store for him, he would not like it.

Still, the Figure made no sign that it had even heard Gabriel. “Not only that, but you performed a memory wipe on Principality Aziraphale without permission from your superiors. I thought we had all agreed that such a punishment was unnecessarily cruel?”

Gabriel gaped, and flapped his mouth uselessly. He tried to form a coherent argument, but nothing of worth came past his lips. It seemed he could not think of a suitable way to defend himself there.

“I am politely not mentioning your conduct during Armageddon, due to the fact that you were under a lot of pressure and were following what you thought were My orders. However, you will have to accept responsibility for your actions towards Crowley and Aziraphale, roughly six thousand years ago, _and_ for the botched execution of Principality Aziraphale, both of which were done without my knowledge or permission.” Her voice left no room for dispute. It was quickly draining the archangel of all his fight.

Of course, he had known God was watching his—and everyone else’s—actions, there was a reason She was known as omnipresent. He had just never expected Her to openly disapprove of them. It had been such a long time since anyone had heard from the Almighty at all, why was She questioning him now?

Crowley and Aziraphale watched in stunned silence as God Herself scolded one of her archangels, right here in the bookshop. They both wondered when their evening had taken such a turn for the bizarre.

Gabriel sighed. He couldn’t fight God Herself, especially not when he was alone and outmatched. Not that he could ever dream of doing such a thing, anyway, he was an angel, for Heaven’s sake. He shouldn’t be having these sorts of thoughts in the first place. He should accept whatever God was going to say, no qualms. There was less chance of Falling for disobedience that way.

What was the appropriate punishment for Gabriel’s actions? Neither he, Aziraphale, nor Crowley were completely sure. Angels had Fallen for less; Crowley was living proof of that fact. But God was all about forgiving, wasn’t She? It was pointless to speculate, really. No one could ever hope to understand how Her mind worked, not truly. Her decisions were undisputable, and almost always completely fair. 

“Archangel Gabriel,” the Lord spoke, and all three faces in the bookshop snapped to attention. “For your actions, I sentence you to become human.”

Gabriel gasped. He wasn't Falling, not yet, that was good. But he _did_ have to become human. He didn’t despise the humans, of course, they were God's creatures and he loved them the same as any other. They were just… lowly, at least compared to angels. Not to mention their mortality, _and_ they couldn’t even perform the most basic of miracles. He stared at the Almighty, as if She was about to announce that this had all been a prank. Unfortunately for him, nothing of the sort happened.

Crowley and Aziraphale were in shock, too. Whatever they had expected Gabriel’s punishment to be, it _certainly_ wasn’t that. They looked at each other, as if checking they had both heard what has actually been said. It occurred to Aziraphale, briefly, that this meant they’d have to share the Earth with the (ex?) archangel, but he decided that now was not the time nor place to mention it. He was sure that Crowley could come up with a brilliant way to make it positive for them, anyway.

God, it seemed, was not finished. “This is only a temporary arrangement, however. Archangel Gabriel, you will live like any other human: you will sleep, eat, bathe, and... fall in love. You will fall in love with another human, and only then will you be allowed back into Heaven. You can reclaim your title and your authority once I am sure that you have learned how it feels to love another. Do you understand?”

Taking no notice of the angel and demon behind him, Gabriel took a deep breath and answered with a small and simple, “Yes.” There was no point in fighting, not when God Herself was administering the punishment. Besides, it wasn't permanent. That was something he could find hope in, at least.

God almost seemed to sympathise with him for a moment, then the Figure waved a brilliantly bright hand and the archangel slumped forward, if only slightly. 

“While he is human, he will not have access to any of his memories from his time in Heaven,” God seemed to explain as She performed a series of complicated gestures. “However, as soon as he has learnt his lesson and is back in Heaven, he shall regain all of them.”

“Is that what happened to me?” Aziraphale asked, a tad timid. “I remembered everything that had happened because something _memorable_—” he glanced at Crowley as the demon suppressed a smile “—happened?”

The Figure’s hand paused in mid-air. “Aziraphale, my child, I do not know what happened for you. By all accounts, you should not have been able to remember, at least not wholly; Gabriel’s miracle was strong.” The Almighty seemed to sigh. “I know you want concrete answers, but I am afraid I do not have them. Perhaps your Love was always too strong for the miracle to properly contain it all, and it needed one tiny extra action to push it over the edge. Perhaps Gabriel underestimated yours and Crowley’s devotion. I cannot say for certain.”

Aziraphale accepted the speculation, seeing no reason as to why God would lie to him at this point. 

The Figure abruptly stopped their hand movements, quietly whispering a few words. It then snapped its fingers, and Gabriel disappeared. “He is at home in his bed,” God said, by way of explanation. “When he wakes, he will not remember any of this. He will have his own memories from a life he never lived, and he will go out into the world like any other human.”

“Until he finds somebody to love?” Crowley asked, wanting to ensure he knew all the terms of Gabriel’s little field trip to Earth. 

The Figure nodded shortly. “Yes. I am hoping it will teach him how to love, so he doesn’t repeat what he did to you two. I am sorry that such a fate befell you both.”

Crowley sniffed while Aziraphale bowed his head in thanks. Neither said anything more. 

Mirroring Aziraphale, the Figure also lowered its head, before popping out of existence. No one said anything for a tense few seconds.

“Tell me you saw all that too.” It was Crowley who first broke the silence. He looked over at the angel, then joined their empty hands together. 

Aziraphale exhaled deeply, casting a scrutinous eye over the bookshop. “I just saw God Herself pop into the shop, demote Gabriel to a human, and then apologise for everything that’s happened to us. You?”

“Yeah,” the demon said, nodding his head gently. “That’s what I saw too. Just wanted to make sure I hadn’t dreamt it all.” He chuckled tiredly. “Shit, I’m exhausted.”

Aziraphale smiled. Perhaps Crowley’s favourite sight. “It _has_ been a very emotionally draining day, hasn’t it? I think a nap would be a brilliant idea. Perhaps we can talk about all this when we are less tired, yes? Decide on what to do about our new visitor to Earth.”

“Even you, angel? I know you don’t really sleep—”

Aziraphale cut him off with a quick peck to the lips. “I am not averse to sleeping, especially not when I can share the bed with the love of my life…”

The demon flushed and leaned forward to capture the angel’s lips, if only to prevent him from saying more embarrassingly sappy sentiments. He ran his fingers through blond curls as Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hips, pulling them as close as physics would allow.

Crowley pulled away first, ducking out the way of one of Aziraphale's kisses, smirking. He sighed contentedly and pressed a palm against the angel's chest. “So,” he cleared his throat. “Bed?”

Aziraphale beamed in response. “Bed,” he agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Which just so happened to be one single star, the one closest to the Earth. [return to text]
> 
> * * *
> 
> so,, that's it huh? done and dusted. thank you all so much for joining me on this ride, i do sincerely hope you enjoyed it! i had a blast writing it, so i hope you all had fun reading. again, thank you thank you _thank you_ for taking the time to read my shit, it means so much !!!! <3


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